


Nothing Will Ever Be The Same

by KJAnderson



Series: Transmutation [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon What Canon, Developing Relationship, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15790080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KJAnderson/pseuds/KJAnderson
Summary: “What the hell...” Mikaela said as she opened the front door of the converted warehouse where she lived. The white and red Subaru Impreza WRX sitting across the street looked like it had been through an explosion.





	1. Chapter 1

LATE SUMMER 2009

Multiple alerts queued up from his sensor suite as he rode the shock wave, warning him that he wasn’t braking as quickly as he needed to for a safe landing. The ablative shielding cradling him was quickly eroding under the relentless friction heat of atmospheric entry, however, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it now.

He hit the ground hard, the last of the shielding sloughing off of his frame as he rolled with the impact. After he finally came to a stop, and his gyros stabilized, he stood up. Thick fluid dripped down his legs as damage reports continued to scroll across his vision. His coolant systems were compromised and his long range communications system was damaged. It wasn’t good news, but it wasn’t anything immediately fatal. Following the directions encoded in Optimus Prime’s message he had picked an entry vector designed to escape notice. Did any of his own people even know he’d arrived, though?

He needed to find an alternate form so he could blend in long enough to find the closest safehouse. It was probably too much to hope that there would be a medic on site, but at the very least there should be patches and energon to help augment his auto repair subroutines. He didn’t have much time before his low coolant levels would cause a dangerous spike in his core temperature, and he would be forced into stasis.

Stepping forward, he nearly stumbled on the lip of the impact crater. A scan of the general area gave him several viable options for alternative forms. Joints whining in protest, he transformed into the first suitable vehicle he identified and slowly drove away from the crash site. There was a safe house in the area, he just needed to last long enough to make it there. 

An hour later, a white and red car coasted gently to the side of the street as lack of coolant forced his autonomic processes to shut down everything but essential systems. 

***

“What the hell...” Mikaela said as she opened the front door of the converted warehouse where she lived. The white and red Subaru Impreza WRX sitting across the street looked like it had been through an explosion. 

The car appeared to be abandoned, however Mikaela was suspicious and carefully walked over to the car to take a closer look.

As Mikaela circled the car at a careful distance she noticed that it didn’t even have license plate mounts. It was such a small detail, but even a brand new car would have some way to screw on a license plate. However, Mikaela knew that none of the Autobots at NEST had license plates.

It was only after Mikaela had rounded the far side of the car that she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and moved to kneel down next to the disabled car. Wiping gently at a black smudge Mikaela revealed a very familiar red symbol. The embossed emblem was smooth to the touch, and slightly warm. 

This wasn’t an abandoned car. It was an injured Autobot. 

With a sense of urgency, Mikaela took a quick look underneath the car. The growing puddle she saw was ominous. It was coolant, but fortunately it was still dripping. Ratchet always said that as long as a mech was still leaking, there was still hope. It was when they stopped that... But Mikaela quickly terminated that line of thought. 

Mikaela needed to get the mech into the warehouse. She couldn’t start repairs while out in the open. There was still a risk that the government was keeping an eye on her. 

“Hey!” Mikaela slammed her fist hard against the side of the car. “You awake?” She pounded the panel again to make sure. 

Mikaela knew from her lessons with Rachet that, while she wouldn’t be able to put a dent in a mech’s armor, a firm pounding should be enough to wake a mech from recharge. If they were in stasis, however, they probably wouldn’t respond.

They didn’t respond. Tension tightened Mikaela’s chest. She only had one year of training. Mikaela shoved the momentary panic aside and fell back on Ratchet’s well-drilled triage routine. 

Mikaela stood and moved to the front of the car and banged hard on the hood. “C’mon answer me,” she pleaded with the unconscious mech. “You’re losing a lot of coolant here.” 

Still no reaction. Leaving them was not an option Mikaela would consider. The mech could be dying as she stood there. Ratchet was the nearest medic she knew of, and he was on Diego Garcia. It may have well been the moon. 

After a minute passed with no reaction from the wounded Autobot Mikaela spun and dashed back to the warehouse, palming the controls to the large metal roll up door as she got inside. It would be tricky to do alone, but it was possible for her to transfer the wounded Autobot inside all by herself. 

*** 

Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, but it still took Mikaela the better part of half an hour to get the Subaru inside the warehouse. 

Once she had the car in her repair bay, Mikaela fell back on Ratchet’s training. First, she needed to hook up a coolant drip to help regulate the mech’s internal temperature while she worked to stop the leak. 

Mikaela sent her request to the warehouse computer, which retrieved the correct container from the hidden underground storage rooms and delivered it to her workspace. While she was waiting, Mikaela used a handy tool that Ratchet had created for her that would locate and trigger the manual latches holding on the mech’s roof armor. Pulling the paneling back just far enough, Mikaela unpacked and set up a drip system, loaded it with fresh coolant, and slid the large needle into the correct line. With the drip set up she pulled out a patch kit, slid under the Impreza and got to work. 

Even with her work overalls on she was liberally covered in coolant by the time she located the leak in the major supply line to the transformation circuits and got a good patch on it. It wasn’t a battle-ready fix, but as long as the mech avoided any overly energetic activities, their auto-repair would incorporate the patch as good as new in a few days. 

Emergency repairs handled, Mikaela rinsed off in the shower in a small locker room underneath her loft. After turning off the water and tying up her wet hair she sprayed herself down with what she had affectionately nicknamed ‘Ratchet's magic potion’ before putting on a clean coverall from the stack she kept in a locker. Ratchet wouldn’t tell Mikaela what was in his magic potion, but he insisted she use it anytime she worked on a mech in order to neutralize any contaminants left behind. 

Now that she was slightly more relaxed, Mikaela walked over to her spare workbench and turned on the speaker sitting there to a local channel so she had some background noise. “Now that I’ve got your coolant system fixed,” she commented out loud, turning back towards the unconscious mech, “it’s time for a complete check up.” 

Mikaela walked over to the driver’s side of the car and tugged gently on the door handle. The door opened easily and Mikaela slid into the driver’s seat. Contrary to the scorched plating on the outside, the inside was black with red trim with spotless white and red leather racing seats in the front, and a black and red leather back seat. 

“Now, the rest of you have the medical jack in the same place. And... there!” Mikaela located the port underneath the dashboard, plugged in her pad--a miniaturized version of a standard Cybertronian pad--and triggered the medical diagnostic program to pull a status report from the mech’s systems. Ratchet had set up the pad to translate alerts into English, though the accuracy of the translations were sometimes lacking. 

Mikaela reviewed the results. “Coolant levels are low, which we already know. No more leak warnings. That’s good. Otherwise, it looks like low level damage; dents, scratches, nothing that auto-repair systems and a topical nanite cream can’t handle given time and energon. However...” she scrolled down. “Shit. Long-distance communications offline.” She thumped her head back against the driver’s seat headrest. “Great. I’ll have to call Ratchet.” 

Mikaela pulled out her cell phone. It looked exactly like the cell phone she had owned during Mission City, but that phone had died during the battle. This phone had been completely rebuilt by Ratchet. She put on her earpiece, which also concealed Cybertronian technology, and opened a line to Ratchet. 

:Mikaela?: Ratchet’s voice came across the comm line clearly. She had to close her eyes to control her sudden, visceral reaction. The two of them had only communicated by email ever since she had been sent away. During that time all they had talked about was the medical lessons he sent her on a weekly basis. Mikaela hadn’t realized how much she missed Ratchet’s voice. :What is it?: She thought that he sounded concerned.

:I found a mech in their alt mode outside my place.: Mikaela reported, taking a deep breath and collecting herself. Stick to the facts, she reminded herself. :White and red Subaru Impreza WRX with an Autobot badge. Looked rough, like they’d been in an explosion. Leaking coolant and unresponsive to stimulus. I got them inside the warehouse, set up a coolant drip, and patched up the leak. Ran a medical scan using my pad. Aside from dents and scrapes their long-distance communications are currently offline. I’m uploading the results now.: Mikaela hit send on the report on her pad and waited.

Ratchet was quiet for a moment while he took in her verbal report and performed a quick analysis of the data packet Mikaela had sent. :You’ve done well,: Ratchet praised gruffly. :They should come back online within a day.: 

With Ratchet’s confirmation that the mech was going to be OK, Mikaela relaxed backwards in the seat. :Do you know who it is?: she asked. 

:Based on your description and the medical scan, no. There are too many possibilities.: Ratchet paused. :I want Bumblebee there with you when they wake up,: he insisted.

Mikaela shook her head despite the fact that Ratchet couldn’t see her. :He won’t be able to come. Sam’s family are driving to his grandparents house. Bumblebee is going with to keep an eye on Sam.:

:Mikaela, it may not be safe,: Ratchet pointed out. He didn’t want her alone with a strange mech, but a quick query to Optimus Prime came back with the answer that there were no Autobots close enough to divert to Mikaela’s location in time. 

:I’ll be fine, Ratchet. You don’t need to worry about me,: Mikaela tried to reassure him. 

:Mikaela-:

She interrupted Ratchet. :Just tell me if there are any other critical issues that I need to know.: Mikaela didn’t want to risk rehashing the same argument they’d had before. She’d fought that fight when Optimus Prime had told her she was being sent away. Mikaela didn’t think she could take tearing open that wound again.

Ratchet paused before he replied. :None. You have the important points. I’m sending the part for the mech’s comm system. It will arrive in 2 days in the usual way. I’m uploading directions on how to perform the repair to your pad.: After three months living at the warehouse, Mikaela was used to ‘the usual way.’ She never saw the unknown courier who used the locked storage chest outside the side door of the warehouse, but she knew that they were probably not human.

:Thank you, Ratchet.: I miss you, she left unsaid. 

:Be well, Mikaela. Contact me if you need anything.:

:I will.: She closed the connection and sat for a minute, thinking. A pop up in the corner of the screen let her know that the information Ratchet had sent had successfully downloaded. 

It took Mikaela a few more minutes to stop analyzing her conversation with Ratchet. Once she felt more emotionally stable again she got out of the car and worked on cleaning up her workspace. Anything Cybertronian was carefully stowed away back in the hidden storage area. Spilled coolant was treated with more of Ratchet’s magic potion. The chemical would break down the coolant into byproducts that were more environmentally friendly and less recognizably Cybertronian, and therefore less likely to raise any alerts if the army-or whatever was left of Sector Seven-decided to go through her garbage again. 

That done, Mikaela climbed the stairs up to her second floor loft apartment and went to bed. 

*** 

After Mikaela closed her end of the connection, Ratchet opened a secure channel to Optimus Prime and Ironhide and forwarded a summary of his conversation with Mikaela. 

:I don’t like it,: Ironhide commented gruffly. :We only have her word that the mech is an Autobot.:

:We have no choice,: Optimus Prime pointed out. :There are no Autobots close enough to arrive before the mech onlines, and we cannot investigate ourselves without telling the humans why. I would prefer to keep the existence of this Autobot hidden from the human authorities if possible.:

:But Prime...: Ironhide started to object. He worked closely with the human soldiers who had joined the Autobots on Diego Garcia. They trusted Ironhide and Ironhide trusted them.

:I do not question the honor and commitment shown by the members of NEST,: Optimus said. He understood the warrior bonds that Ironhide had been building with the human soldiers. :However, they are accountable to their own governments first, not Autobot command. I will wait until Mikaela is able to restore this new Autobot’s communications and I will make a decision after they report,: Optimus decreed.

Ratchet opened a private line to Optimus. :You have a plan for this new mech,: he stated.

:You keep insisting that Mikaela needs a guardian,: Optimus reminded him. 

:We don’t even know who this mech is,: Ratchet objected heatedly.

:I have confidence that Mikaela can handle the situation and that she will let us know if she has trouble.: Optimus’ utter confidence nearly disarmed Ratchet’s growing dissention.

Ratchet forced himself to pause for a moment to marshal his argument. :You’re trusting Mikaela with a lot of responsibility,: he stated.

:Mikaela worked alongside you for a year, and you chose to continue her training remotely, my old friend,: Optimus rebutted evenly. :Do you question her capability?:

:I question how distant she has become to her own kind. I question how much of her life she has sacrificed for us; for people who are not even the same species as her,: Ratchet argued forcefully. Mikaela was his mentee and he felt it was his duty to advocate on her behalf. 

Ratchet continued his barrage, :the boy has strong connections to his family unit and community. Mikaela, however, is vulnerable. Her family unit is unstable and fractured. She is young and looking for somewhere to belong.: He delivered his coup de grâce. :Mikaela is not one of your soldiers, Optimus.:

:I am aware, Ratchet,: Optimus said, heavily. He shared many of the same concerns. :And we have raised these concerns with Mikaela before.: His last, disastrous conversation with Mikaela had finally driven home the realization that the three of them and Bumblebee now counted among the people that were dear to Mikaela’s heart. :However, as Mikaela has pointed out before, it is her choice, and it will continue to be her choice.:


	2. Chapter 2

Drift onlined slowly. Had he made it to the safe house? He wasn’t sure. 

Carefully, using only his passive sensors to avoid detection by any mechs that happened to be nearby, Drift investigated the area he woke up in. Wherever it was, it was a large room with strange debris all over one end of it. 

Suddenly, Drift noticed movement coming towards him. Startled, his battle protocols took control. With reflexes honed by a thousand battlefields Drift swiftly transformed and had both short swords drawn and pointed to face the threat. All he found, though, was a bipedal organic around a third his size. 

During his time wandering before joining the Autobots Drift had met many races of sentient organics, but this was one he didn’t recognize.

It looked up the length of Drift’s swords at his face, cautious, but with strangely little fear. 

“Who are you? Where am I?” Drift demanded in a common trade language. The organic shook its head and said something back, but he couldn’t understand the words. A tense stillness fell over the two of them as they both tried to figure out what do do next. 

A sudden noise outside caused the organic to look to the side. At the same time, Drift noticed that the door to the room was open. He quickly transformed and escaped the building, driving off down the street. 

***

A couple of hours later, Mikaela sat at her kitchen table staring at her cell phone and thinking about what happened earlier. Mikaela couldn’t blame the mech for being startled when he came out of stasis. It had been a mistake to approach a brand new mech the way she would have one of the others. They’d at least had time to get used to having humans around. 

No reason to keep putting it off, she told herself. With a sigh, Mikaela selected Bumblebee’s contact and called. He replied immediately.

:Hi Bumblebee, how’s the trip out to grandma’s house?: Mikeala asked, lightly. Sam and his family were visiting his maternal grandmother in Phoenix, and Bumblebee, as Sam’s guardian, had been dragged along to be Sam’s ride.

:Hot. Quiet.: Bumblebee’s warm tenor voice came across the comm line. :I’m currently in a strip mall parking lot while grandma takes Sam antiques shopping.: While Megatron had ripped out Bumblebee’s vocalizer at Tyger Pax, severely crippling the scout’s voice, the loss had not actually affected his other communications. Mikaela had kicked him in the tire when she figured it out. Then apologized as Bumblebee laughed at her.

Mikaela leaned back in her chair. :You know you can always call me if you need somebody to talk to,: she offered, yet again. 

:I’ve been keeping busy with Grand Theft Auto,: Bumblebee replied. 

Mikaela laughed. :Isn’t that redundant?:

:It’s cathartic,: his smile was apparent in his words. :At least with the strong sunlight here I won’t need to worry about energy for a while. I feel slightly overcharged as it is.: He probably was too, Mikaela thought. Ratchet had taught her about the scout’s inbuilt solar collector a while back. In fact, a lot of her lessons since she had moved to the warehouse had been shaped around Bumblebee’s frametype. Mikaela figured that was fair, considering she was probably the closest medical help he had available. 

:So, why are you calling?: he asked. 

:Do I need to have a reason to call a friend?: Mikaela asked back. 

:No, you don’t. But I know you, Mikaela. I can tell that you need to get something off your mind,: Bumblebee replied gently.

Mikaela tilted her head back so that it rested on the top of the back of the chair and paused to gather her thoughts. :Have you talked to Ratchet in the past day or so?: 

Bumblebee noticed the shift in Mikaela’s mood, and focused more attention to the conversation. Mikaela had been distant with Optimus and the others since she had not been allowed to accompany the team to Diego Garcia. Bumblebee believed that the only reason she still talked to him was because he was also cut off from the others. Though in his case, it was voluntary. :Not recently. Why?: Bumblebee responded.

:I found an injured Autobot outside the warehouse yesterday,: Mikaela said.

Bumblebee was not expecting that. He wasn’t aware of any new landings. :Are you sure it was an Autobot?: he asked, concerned. :Were you able to figure out who they are?:

:No idea,: Mikaela admitted. :Ratchet didn’t know either. They were in alt mode, and the car had the Autobot brand. Looked like they had been through an explosion and had a puddle of coolant underneath them large enough that the mech had gone into stasis.: 

:Were you able to help?:

:Yep. Patched the leak. Filled up their coolant. Couldn’t do anything about their external communications, though. Ratchet’s sending the part I need.: Mikaela stated, staring blankly at the kitchen ceiling. :I messed up, though.: 

:What happened?:

:I surprised them. I wasn’t expecting them to wake up so quickly.: Mikaela quickly reassured Bumblebee. :I’m fine. Just startled when they transformed. They tried to say something to me, but I didn’t understand what they were saying. Then they took off out the door. I know they’re still in the neighborhood, though.:

:It sounds like they’re a new arrival.: Bumblebee pieced together the clues Mikaela gave him. :If their comm system went out, they don’t have a way to report in. They probably wouldn’t have known the local language when they woke up, either. It’s not your fault,: he reassured her.

:I don’t feel like it.: Mikaela admitted.

:You want me to come talk to them? I can have Sam-: Bumblebee started to offer.

Mikaela sat up straight in her chair. :Don’t you dare, Bumblebee!: She cut him off sharply. :I’m fine and Sam needs to spend time with his family.: The last thing she wanted to do was have Bumblebee interrupt Sam’s trip. She’d never hear the last of it.

:We are headed back in two days. I’ll be there as soon as I can, even if Sam has to sleep in the back seat,: Bumblebee reassured her.

Mikaela laughed, relaxing back into a slouch. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had fallen asleep in Bumblebee while he was driving. 

:Don’t tell Sam, though. He’s got enough on his mind right now,: she asked. :Promise me.:

:I promise, I won’t,: he said solemnly.

:See you in two days. Let me know when you’re on your way over.:

:I will.:

:Thanks, Bumblebee,: Mikaela said softly, and closed the connection.

***

Mikaela could feel the unknown Autobot’s gaze on her as she rolled a small metal barrel of energon out the warehouse door. The unknown Autobot wasn’t being stealthy today. She could see their rear spoiler peeking out around the corner of the warehouse the next block down as she set the container upright next to the door. 

Despite how tempted she was to lie in wait and catch them when they came to pick up the energon, Mikaela stuck to the pattern she’d kept up for the last couple of days and closed the door to the warehouse behind her.

A couple of hours later, Mikaela retrieved the empty container and put it back away with the other empties. The solar distiller on the roof of the warehouse didn’t create much energon per day, but it was more than enough to keep Bumblebee topped off as needed. Mikaela noted that she should put in a request for a second energon distiller if the mech ended up staying. 

***

“Hey Mikaela!” Sam’s voice rang through the warehouse as the sound of Bumblebee’s engine died. “I’m back!”

Mikaela rolled her eyes at Sam’s enthusiasm and strolled casually down the steps from her loft watching appreciatively as Bumblebee transformed. Sam tackled her at the bottom, spinning her around until they smacked into the side of Bumblebee’s leg. Bumblebee continued his stretch, taking advantage of the height of the large open warehouse while Sam proceeded to wrap himself around his girlfriend.

“How was the trip, Sam?” Mikaela asked, once he let her come up for breath. 

“Don’t want to talk about it,” Sam replied. “How about you?” he asked indifferently as he pulled her towards the stairs that led to the second story loft apartment.

“Nothing much,” she replied. “What’s the hurry?”

“Mom wants me back by 11 and it takes an hour to drive home.” 

“Really?” Mikaela said, her sarcastic tone unnoticed by her boyfriend as he pulled her through the front door and into the living room. As Sam collapsed on the couch to catch his breath, Mikaela walked across the living room to the wall facing the inside of the warehouse and made a quick adjustment on the window control panel. The bank of large glass panels that overlooked the inside of the warehouse suddenly turned translucent. The cloudy glass cut off the loft apartment from the rest of the warehouse, so Sam wouldn’t be able to see what Bumblebee was about to do. 

“Bumblebee won’t speed when there aren’t Decepticons around,” Sam complained as Mikaela joined him on the couch. “Why did you have to go decide to live so far away, anyway?” Sam complained, moving closer and pulling at her shirt.

“I needed a fresh start,” Mikaela replied as Sam pulled her shirt over her face. She wasn’t about to admit to Sam that Optimus Prime owned the warehouse and had offered it to her rent-free. Or that Bumblebee had helped her to set up a trust fund with her government hush money that she lived comfortably off of. 

“Why are we talking?” Sam asked, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“You keep asking questions,” Mikaela pointed out, leaning back against the arm of the sofa.

“Talking bad. Breasts wonderful,” he paused and tried that again. “Your breasts are wonderful,” he enunciated. Sam buried his face between her breasts and started kissing and licking. 

Mikaela was the only one who noticed when Bumblebee, back in his Camaro alt mode, slipped out of the warehouse door and turned down the street. 

***

Down the street from the warehouse Bumblebee coasted to a stop behind the Subaru parked on the side of the road. It fit Mikaela’s description; white with red trim and carbon scoring from a hard landing. The comms ping he sent went unanswered. That also fit with Mikaela’s story.

A quick scan of the area confirmed that the two mechs were alone aside from Mikaela and Sam, who were busy back in her apartment. Bumblebee transformed and settled into a crouch, ready for any potential hostility. The white car’s engine revved briefly before it too transformed. 

The unknown mech faced Bumblebee. He was around the same size as Bumblebee, with two short swords sheathed at his hips, and the hilt of a large sword rising over his head. Bumblebee searched his memory. He had heard of a mech that carried three swords, but he couldn’t recall the name. They were clearly his primary weapons with the easy way that the mech carried them. 

Bumblebee also noted that the newcomer was wearing the Autobot brand. An ID scan of the brand came back with the correct authentication codes, but no name. 

They stood there staring at each other. 

“Who are you?” the other mech spoke first, in Cybertronian. 

Bumblebee gestured towards his vocalizer and let out a garbled burst of static. He could cobble together a reply in English, but the other mech wouldn’t understand. He didn’t have sound clips in Cybertronian because he could speak to the rest of his team using comms. He couldn’t use clips from his memory, because they weren’t tagged to allow that kind of searching. However, there was one thing he could explain using a memory replay. 

The scout’s holographic visualizer whirred to life and projected an image between them. It was Bumblebee’s confrontation with Megatron, from Bumblebee’s perspective. The warlord towered over the wounded mech, demanding answers before finally ripping the vocalizer out of the scout’s throat in a rage. 

The other mech looked up from the hologram to Bumblebee after the memory replay ended. There wasn’t any shock or horror on his face, but a faint hint of what Bumblebee thought could be respect. 

“So you can’t speak, and my comms are broken,” Drift remarked, summing up the situation neatly. “We’re at a stalemate unless you have any other ideas?”

Bumblebee nodded and pulled a pad out of his subspace. 

“That would work,” the white mech commented as Bumblebee uploaded what he wanted to say to the pad and handed it over. 

_I’m Bumblebee, an Autobot scout reporting to Optimus Prime. I can share with you a language and culture download that will help until we’re able to get your comms fixed and connect to the human’s data net._

_Who are you?_

As the white mech digested Bumblebee’s short message, the scout prepared the download. A quiet chirrup from Bumblebee caught the other mech’s attention, and Bumblebee held out the chip to him. 

Drift took the chip and looked at it, then looked at the yellow scout wryly. “My name,” the white mech said, looking Bumblebee in the eye, “is Drift.” Drift’s gaze didn’t move from Bumblebee’s as he slid the chip into his wrist port. Immediately, Drift’s systems quarantined the contents and his antiviral routines started scanning the large data packet before it was passed on to his processor to be parsed and correlated. 

Not even his long experience as a scout helped Bumblebee completely control his reaction to the other mech’s name. He hadn’t met Drift before, but he knew about him. Everyone attached to the Special Operations division knew about Drift, whether officially or through the rumor mill. 

Drift didn’t comment on the other mech’s startled reaction and handed the pad back to Bumblebee, who cleared it and downloaded his next set of instructions to the pad. He handed it back to Drift.

_Prime’s current standing orders are that any Autobots who are able to arrive without the local authorities noticing are supposed to remain hidden. Unfortunately, Chief Medical Officer Ratchet can’t come here without being noticed and potentially revealing your existence. Fortunately, he’s been training one of the local organic sentients. You’ve already met her. Her name is Mikaela. She’s the one who found you and patched up your coolant system. Based on the medical scan she ran while you were in stasis we’ve supplied her with what she needs in order to fix your comms._

_You will follow me back to the warehouse in your alt mode. You will remain there in alt mode until after I have left with the male. You will cooperate with Mikaela so she can fix you. However, we are close to the beginning of her normal recharge cycle. If she is unable to perform the repair before recharging, you will wait until she has recharged and is ready._

_When Mikaela is done repairing you, you will contact Optimus Prime and report. He will give you your new orders then._

_Mikaela is my friend. If something happens to her, you won’t be able to hide from me. Though if I were you, I’d worry more about CMO Ratchet’s reaction if you damage his apprentice._

Drift looked up when he was done reading. “Understood.” He said in English, testing how far his processor had integrated the new linguistic program.

Bumblebee nodded, took the pad back from Drift, and subspaced it. Shifting back into his Camaro alt form Bumblebee kept his passive scanners focused on the other mech as Drift transformed and fell in behind him for the short drive down the street the warehouse. Bumblebee used a quick transmission to trigger the large roll up door to open enough for the two cars to enter. Once inside, he looped around to face the entrance while Drift settled into the back corner of the warehouse. 

As they waited Bumblebee opened a channel to Optimus Prime.

Optimus listened seriously as Bumblebee made his report. He needed more Autobots on Earth, especially Autobots that human authorities were unaware of. However, Optimus knew what the opinion of his officers would be. At best, Drift was considered an unreliable asset. At worst, he was considered a traitor in fact. However, a guardian was needed, and one had been provided. 

:What is your decision, sir?: Bumblebee’s question broke Optimus from his contemplation. Optimus hadn’t realized he had been silent for an extended period of time. 

:Thank you Bumblebee,: Optimus replied to his loyal scout. :The plan remains unchanged. I will talk with Drift when he is repaired and I will ask him to become Mikaela’s guardian.:

:But, Prime, he may as well be a Decepticon!: Bumblebee protested. Mikaela was his friend too, and he didn’t trust Drift.

:No, Bumblebee,: Optimus gently but firmly rebuked his scout. He understood Bumblebee’s reluctance, but he could not allow Bumblebee’s misgivings to poison Drift’s assignment. :Drift is an Autobot. He has taken the oath, he wears the brand, and he has fought alongside us. He will be offered the position of Mikaela’s guardian.: 

Bumblebee still disagreed with Optimus Prime, but he could tell that his leader’s mind was made up. It would take more skill than he had to change it. He wished Prowl was here. :Understood, my Lord Prime,: he said, falling back on the older, more formal mode of address both as an acknowledgement of Optimus’ authority as Prime, but also to show his lingering disapproval.

Bumblebee could almost feel Optimus’ gentle smile, the one he tended to reveal only when in close company. :Have faith, Bumblebee.: With that, Optimus Prime closed the line.


	3. Chapter 3

“I didn’t know you had a car, Mikaela.” Sam idly commented as Mikaela walked him down the stairs an hour later. He thought that the Subaru sitting in the back of the warehouse looked shitty, especially compared to his shiny Camaro best friend parked at the foot of the stairs waiting for him. 

“It’s a new project,” Mikaela replied shortly. Now that Bumblebee had convinced the other mech to come back, she needed to get Sam out of the building so that they could talk. 

“Didn’t see it when we came in,” Sam said, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around Mikaela and pin her up against Bumblebee and steal a kiss. He had his girl, he had his car, what more could he want? 

One kiss turned into many kisses, until Bumblebee pointedly cycled his door locks and popped the driver’s door open. 

“It’s a good thing you have Bumblebee to drive you home,” Mikaela said, playfully shoving her amorous boyfriend towards the open car door. “You were so distracted when you arrived, Optimus could have been sitting over there and you wouldn’t have noticed.” She stepped back to let Bumblebee close his door. 

Sam rolled the window down. “I’ll see you next week!” He called over the sound of Bumblebee’s powerful engine. 

“See you then,” Mikaela called back to him with a slight wave. She watched as Bumblebee tore out of the warehouse, down the street, and turned to head towards the highway back to Mission City. 

Mikaela knew it was unlikely that Sam would actually show up next week. College started soon, and he’d be too busy packing and panicking to visit his long-distance girlfriend.

Remotely triggering the large roll up door to close, she walked towards the unknown Autobot in the back of the warehouse. 

As Mikaela walked she did a quick visual inspection. The panels still had scorch marks, but at least she didn’t notice any fresh coolant on the ground. That was good. It meant that her repair was probably still holding. 

The thud of the door closing echoed through the warehouse. Mikaela stopped about 10 feet away from the new mech, leaving plenty of room for them to transform. “Hello,” she said, addressing the mech in front of her. “My name is Mikaela. What’s yours?”

“My name is Drift,” he said in a pleasant tenor voice with the peculiar hollow resonance Mikaela found typical of Cybertronians. 

“Nice to meet you, Drift,” Mikaela smiled, trying to set him at ease. Hopefully he’d interpret her body language cues the same way the others would. “Could you transform, please? I’d like to repair your comm system, and the directions Ratchet sent me rely on you being in root form.” 

“Isn’t it late in your cycle?” Drift asked for clarification. “Bumblebee said that I would need to wait until after you recharged.” 

“I can do it now, so why make you wait?” Mikaela stated. Part of her also wanted to see what Drift looked like when he wasn’t pretending to be a car. 

As Drift initiated his transformation sequence, Mikaela walked back to the small locker room built in underneath the loft and changed into a clean pair of coveralls. Stopping by a workbench, she retrieved her pad along with the tool kit and part she needed for the fix. Mikaela had laid out everything earlier, counting on Sam not to pay attention to what was in her workspace. He rode around in cars, he wasn’t interested in what made them work.

Mikaela turned around and got her first look at Drift. He was around the same height as Bumblebee. Unlike Bumblebee, Drift had two swords, one attached at each hip, and the hilt of a third larger sword sheathed on his back rose a couple of feet above his head. Drift stood easily, hands loose at his sides.

As Mikaela walked back towards Drift, she started planning how she was going to get this done. He was only three times her height, but that was three times further than she wanted to climb right now.

“I’ll need to access your audial structure. Can you sit down?” Mikaela asked. “Unless you’d like to lay down instead? That way I won’t have to climb on top of you.”

Drift knelt down on both knees on the floor of the warehouse. “This position will be fine.” He didn’t know what to expect from Mikaela, and kneeling left him less vulnerable than laying down. 

“OK, then. I’ll need to climb up on your left shoulder to access the correct panel for repairs,” Mikaela outlined her plans for Drift. “It’s a simple swap, so it should only take a few minutes, provided I’m reading Ratchet’s diagrams correctly.” 

The pad and replacement part were carefully stowed away in the pockets of her coveralls. Mikaela pulled on a pair of gloves with palms that were coated in a special polymer to give her extra purchase on armor plating. This part would take a lot of trust in an unknown mech. 

“Are you ready?” Mikaela asked Drift.

“Yes,” Drift replied.

Mikaela lifted herself onto Drift’s knee and started walking up his thigh.

“The first time I tried this I thought Ratchet was going to blow a circuit,” Mikaela started talking casually. “I’d convinced Optimus to let me try to climb him and Ratchet walked in on us when I was halfway up.”

“The Lord Prime let you... Why?” Drift stuttered, surprised. He wondered how Mikaela could dare to do such a thing, and why Optimus Prime would let her?

“I asked nicely. I don’t think Optimus thought I was serious until I was climbing up his thighs.” Mikaela found a handhold on Drift’s chest and carefully started pulling herself up. “Looking back, I think Optimus commed Ratchet and got him to come and pull me off. It backfired on Optimus, however. He had to catch me when Ratchet startled me into falling.”

Mikaela pulled her leg up and over, sitting sideways on Drift’s shoulder, facing his head. “Do me a favor and don’t move your head suddenly.” She located the correct panel and tapped on it gently. “Are you able to detach this panel yourself, or should I use the manual latches?”

“I can do it.” The indicated plate popped out slightly as the connections that held it in place loosened. Mikaela carefully worked her fingers around the side of the plate to work it off. 

Mikaela pulled back as she felt a tremor go through Drift. “Let me know if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable,” Mikaela said. “I have some localized sensor blockers I can use in that case.”

“No, it doesn’t feel bad, just, weird,” Drift admitted.

“Weird having your insides worked on or weird having a human underneath your plating?” Mikaela asked curiously as she started sorting through his wiring again, trying to avoid the nerve bundles.

“Honestly, both.”

“That’s fair,” Mikaela conceded. “The first time Sam and I met the others, Ratchet made a comment about how he could tell that Sam wanted to mate with me. For humans, you just don’t say things like that, even if everybody knows it.”

Mikaela located the junction she was looking for. “I found the burnt out part and I’m going to take it out now,” she warned Drift.

The swap was quick, and fortunately for both of them, painless. Mikaela still insisted on plugging in so she could perform a quick diagnostic before she replaced his panel. 

As Mikaela pressed the panel back into place Drift raised his hand to just underneath where she was sitting on his shoulder. “So you don’t have to climb down,” he explained. 

Mikaela looked sideways at the face looming next to her, still carefully facing forwards. “Thanks,” she said. Turning backwards on Drift’s shoulder, she sat down in his hand. Drift carefully lowered her to the ground next to his legs and held steady so she could hop off. 

“If you’re still around tomorrow, I can help you out with some basic maintenance. However, I’m done for tonight. You good for now?” Mikaela asked, turning around to look at Drift one last time. It was a good thing that Drift had offered to help her down. It had been a few months since she had last climbed a mech. At this rate she had just enough energy left to make it up the stairs and to bed. 

Drift just nodded in reply.

“Good. I’ll be in the loft over there if you need me overnight,” Mikaela offered. “Make yourself at home. Good night, Drift.”

“Good night, Mikaela.”

Exhaustion hit her hard now that she wasn’t focused on healing Drift. Mikaela successfully made it up the stairs and into her loft, pulling off her overalls in the entryway. She’d wash them and take them back down tomorrow. She stumbled into her bedroom, swatting at the controls until the window facing the warehouse turned opaque, shoved the covers aside, and collapsed into bed.

Mikaela woke up four hours later just long enough to turn off the lights.

***

Drift took a few minutes to mentally center himself before he opened a connection and sent a ping with his designation on the comm frequency that he had been given. A return ping came back almost immediately with the designation of the other mech. It was Optimus Prime himself. 

Drift tensed. He knew that Bumblebee had ordered him to report to the Prime, but he never thought that he’d actually talk directly to Optimus Prime himself. 

:Reporting as ordered, Lord Prime.: Drift straightened up and drew on the most formal manners he had been taught. 

:Drift. You are currently a member of the Wreckers, are you not?: Optimus Prime asked. Prime’s deep voice carried with it an unquestionable command that wrapped around Drift’s spark and demanded immediate obedience.

:Yes, Lord Prime,: Drift replied obediently. He was glad he was already kneeling.

:What was the last mission you were on with your team, how did you become separated from them, and how did you end up here on Earth?: Optimus Prime requested. 

Fortunately, Drift was ready for the request, and forwarded a data packet containing his report. The request may have been routine, but Drift knew his every word and action was being analyzed. It was a feeling he was very familiar with since joining the Autobots. 

Drift waited respectfully while Optimus Prime reviewed his report. 

:Drift,: Optimus Prime said, :since you joined the Autobots you have met and overcome the challenges faced on your journey and you have integrated well with your team.: 

Drift wondered what reports Optimus Prime had been reading. Most of the Wreckers barely tolerated his position on the team. 

:I have a mission for you that requires a person with your level of skill,: Optimus Prime revealed.

Dread pulled heavily at Drift. There was one thing that set him aside from the majority of the Autobots. He had tried to leave that part of his life behind, but Drift could never escape it’s shadow. He bowed his head, though it went unseen by the mech on the other end of the comm line. :How may I serve, Lord Prime?:

:Mikaela Banes requires a guardian to be her companion and protector. You will be that guardian,: Optimus Prime commanded. 

Fortunately comms were voice only, because Drift was startled enough to physically flinch. It was not what he had been expecting. 

Optimus Prime continued, :she is very important to myself, to my team, and, though she does not know it yet, to the future of Cybertron itself. It is your duty to keep her safe at all costs.: 

Optimus Prime paused for a moment to let that sink in. 

Drift quickly weighed his options. Protesting the assignment would only foster further doubts about his loyalties. Given how casually Mikaela talked about Optimus Prime and chief medical officer Ratchet, the Prime’s stated concern for her, and the scout Bumblebee’s earlier threat, she obviously had influence at the very top of Autobot leadership. This assignment would put him under close scrutiny by Optimus Prime himself. 

Drift braced himself. He had to tread this line delicately, otherwise it could blow up in his face. :I understand your orders, Lord Prime, however, Mikaela Banes deserves a say in who her guardian is. She should informed about my background and allowed to decide if she will have me as her guardian or not.: It was a gamble. If she turned him down, he might be able to avoid Prime’s anger and be able to rejoin the relative anonymity of the Wreckers. 

:I agree with your recommendation, Drift.: Optimus Prime’s voice rumbled approvingly down the comm line. :Is Mikaela still awake?” he asked.

Drift focused his sensors on Mikaela’s living quarters. :No, Lord Prime. Her bio readings indicate that she is in recharge.:

:I will contact her tomorrow to get her decision. Until then, keep watch over her,: Optimus Prime commanded.

:Understood.: Drift waited until after Optimus Prime dropped the connection before he closed the line.

There was nothing for him to do after that but wait. With nothing else to distract himself with except for his own thoughts, Drift settled his mind as Wing had drilled into him years ago. Slowly he calmed his thoughts until he fell into a light meditation.


	4. Chapter 4

As Mikaela descended the stairs the next morning she noticed that Drift was still kneeling in the same position as the night before. Even knowing that the large roll up door hadn’t been opened last night, Mikaela honestly hadn’t expected to see Drift again. 

Optimus had been careful to keep her separated from the other Autobots after he left for Diego Garcia. Mikaela knew they were out there, though. Somebody had delivered the parts for Drift’s comm suite repair, and it hadn’t been the Post Office. Somebody also picked up the energon and other supplies she kept stocked in the large lockbox outside. Whoever it was stayed unseen, though. The one time Mikaela had tried to stake out the box nothing had happened until she fell asleep. When she woke up a couple of minutes later, the box had been emptied and neatly locked back up.

Curious, Mikaela walked towards the resting mech. As she came closer, Drift’s optics and bio lights swiftly brightened and he tilted his head to look at her. 

“Good morning,” Mikaela said lightly, trying to act casual. “How did your talk with Optimus go?” 

“It went well,” Drift replied. “He’d like to talk to you.”

Part of Mikaela wanted to immediately contact Optimus. But part of her wanted to make him wait like she had waited. Like she was still waiting. 

Before Mikaela could make a decision, her phone rang. It was Optimus’ ringtone. Mikaela hadn’t spoken to him since he had offered her the use of the warehouse she now lived in. Surrendering to the inevitable, she put on her earpiece and accepted the call. 

“Hi Optimus.” 

:Hello Mikaela.: Optimus’ deep rumble came over the comm line and suddenly it was like the past few months hadn’t happened. 

Mikaela stepped backwards and sat heavily on a nearby shop stool. “Drift mentioned you wanted to talk to me.”

:Indeed. I am calling to inform you that Drift will be your guardian,: Optimus said solemnly.

“A guardian. You mean like Bumblebee is for Sam?” Mikaela clarified, as if she had somehow misheard Optimus. 

:Yes,: Optimus confirmed. 

She stared at the floor as if it held the answers to all the questions that were running through her mind. “Isn’t this rather sudden? After all, Drift and I just met.” Mikaela glanced over at Drift, who was also watching her discreetly. She knew Bumblebee would die for Sam. How could this mech who had just met her be willing to commit to such a responsibility?

:I’ve been working on finding you a guardian since Mission City,: Optimus explained, :Drift is the best option.:

“You mean he’s your only option.” Mikaela retorted sharply, suddenly feeling hurt. 

:Mikaela-:

“Whatever,” Mikaela cut him off, rudely. “I don’t know why you bothered.” She pulled up her legs and buried her head in her arms. 

She’d heard it all before. 

People tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault when her mother died. That it wasn’t her fault when her father went to jail. That it wasn’t her fault that her aunt kicked her out when she turned 18.

But it had been her fault when, after more than a year together with the Autobots, she couldn’t move to Diego Garcia with her new family. They had patiently explained that she wasn’t smart enough, that she wasn’t strong enough, that she was a liability.

Optimus paused for a moment before answering. :I want you safe, Mikaela,: he said gently. :The best way for me to guarantee that is if you have a guardian.:

The line was silent for a long minute. “You already talked to Drift?”

:Yes, I have already informed Drift about his new assignment,: Optimus confirmed. :He had one recommendation, however.:

Mikaela froze. “What was it?” 

:Drift recommended that you be told about his past before you consented to him becoming your guardian,: Optimus explained.

“What?” Mikaela exclaimed. “No not you Optimus.” She said, cutting off anything he might have said.

“Drift!” Mikaela called to the mech who was now studiously not looking at her. She didn’t remove her earpiece. Let Optimus listen in. 

Drift looked over at her, hesitantly. “Yes, Mikaela.”

“Optimus says you want me to know about your past before I agree to you becoming my guardian,” Mikaela said bluntly. 

“Yes.” Drift said uncertainly, shifting on his knees.

“So, tell me yourself.” Mikaela’s voice was challenging. “What is it?”

“I used to be a Decepticon.” Drift revealed the unvarnished truth, without elaboration or excuse.

It took a minute for Drift’s confession to sink in for Mikaela. “Is that it?” she replied. 

“Is that...” Drift almost stuttered. Did she not understand what he was saying? “What else do you want to know?” He flung one hand out to his side, voice rising. “How many Autobots I’ve killed over the course of the war?”

“If you’re trying to scare me, you’re not doing a very good job.” Mikaela snapped back. In her head Simmonds’ sneering voice echoed like it was yesterday. Taunting her about her father; about her past. Mikaela wouldn’t let herself become another Simmonds.

Mikaela stood up and walked towards Drift where he still knelt on the floor of the warehouse. Five feet away from his knees she stopped and looked up at his face. “Drift,” Mikaela said seriously, “do you want to do this or is it just orders?”

Drift shook his head faintly, but his voice was firm. “I will do my duty.” 

Mikaela closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Optimus.” 

:Yes, Mikaela,: he replied on the still-open comm line. 

“What if I say no?” Mikaela asked. She could feel Drift watching her intently. 

:If you decline Drift’s protection he will be re-assigned,: Optimus explained. 

It wasn’t much of a choice. The last few days Mikaela had felt more alive than she had since the day she had watched Optimus, Ironhide, and Ratchet board the plane for Diego Garcia. It was selfish of her, but she didn’t want to be alone again. And she didn’t want Drift to think she was afraid of him.

“A trial run, then,” Mikaela proposed. “We try this for three months. After three months we re-evaluate and if either of us want to break it off, we can, without repercussion,” Mikaela emphasized the last two words. She looked up at Drift. “Does that work for you, Drift?” 

This was not what Drift had expected. He nodded.

“Optimus?” Mikaela asked.

:I accept your proposal. In three month’s time I will check back in with the both of you,: Optimus Prime said gravely. 

“Great.” Mikaela said before abruptly cutting the connection. 

“He agreed,” she informed Drift. 

All the energy Mikaela had woken up with was suddenly gone. She felt hollow and cold, as if everything that was good and warm had been drained out of her leaving this husk behind. “I need to...” Mikaela trailed off and gestured up at the loft. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be back down later.”

Mikaela turned to leave, then turned back. “And, Drift?” she said quietly, meeting his gaze. “Thanks for giving me a choice.”

Drift nodded. “Likewise.” It was a neat piece of diplomatic maneuvering on Mikaela’s part. Optimus Prime got what he wanted-a guardian for Mikaela-and they got what they wanted-a choice.

Mikaela nodded back, then shakily retreated up the stairs. Feeling disconnected from her body and running on habit she entered the bathroom, stripped, and started the shower. Mikaela held it together barely long enough to get in the shower before she lost it. Numbly she slid to the floor of the shower and stared at the water running down the drain, her mind blank.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Drift was at a loss. He thought that Mikaela would spurn his guardianship as soon as she knew that he had been a Decepticon. But Mikaela didn’t. She brushed it off like it was nothing. Didn’t she understand?

Drift’s spiraling thoughts were brought to a sudden halt when Bumblebee opened a comm channel. 

:Drift, Optimus Prime informed me that you are now Mikaela Banes’ guardian,: the scout stated in a matter of fact tone. :I am sending you classified information that you need to be aware of due to your new assignment. I’m also including a file with guardian code for you to implement.: A heavily-encrypted file from Bumblebee was transferred into Drift’s queue.

Bumblebee’s tone was decidedly frosty. :You don’t agree with Prime’s assignment,: Drift observed carefully.

:No, I don’t,: Bumblebee said bluntly. :But I trust that Optimus has his reasons.: The scout paused for a moment before continuing. :Mikaela is my friend, so I want your mission to be successful. Read the file. Take the time to understand it. Since you’re not a scout I’ve included information in the packet that will help you disguise yourself as one of the human’s sparkless automobiles. Mikaela is also a good resource if you need help. You can also connect to the human’s internet and search for information there. It’s similar to what Cybertron’s planetary datanet used to be.: Bumblebee paused while Drift’s mind reeled with all the new information he had to integrate.

:I am your local backup,: Bumblebee continued in a serious tone of voice, :as you are now mine. Contact me if you need anything,: he said, before cutting the connection. 

Drift absently listened to what Mikaela was doing in her habsuite while he waited for the file to finish decrypting. Then he unpacked the contents and let his antiviral programs examine them carefully. He quarantined the guardian code, tagged the cultural information to follow up with later and settled down to review the classified information first.

It only took a few minutes of reading for Drift to learn he was severely out of his depth. The Allspark had been destroyed and Megatron killed during the last battle between Megatron and Optimus Prime. However, several discrete traces of Allspark energy had been found after the battle, only one of which was specifically called out in the file. 

Mikaela Banes. 

A basic background dossier was included. It had clearly been pulled together from human records, with in-depth annotations made by Ironhide, Optimus Prime, Ratchet, and Bumblebee. As Drift read through the file he slowly realized that it was very possible that the fate of not only Mikaela lay in his hands, but the fate of Cybertron and his entire race.


	5. Chapter 5

It took Mikaela a couple of hours to start feeling human again. After she recovered enough to finish her shower and eat breakfast she walked back down the stairs, ready to properly meet her new guardian.

Drift was restlessly pacing up and down the other end of the warehouse. Mikaela marveled at how quiet a fifteen foot mech could be as he strode silently back and forth.

“Hey, Drift,” Mikaela called out. 

Caught up in cross-indexing all the new information he’d been sent, it took Drift a moment to stop, turn, and look at her. “Yes, Mikaela?”

“Would you like some help getting those scorch marks off your armor?” Mikaela asked casually. 

“That would be appreciated,” Drift replied, “however, I don’t see any washracks in this building.”

“If washracks are a Cybertronian-sized bath, then no, there isn’t anything like that here,” Mikaela said. “I can give you hand wash instead,” she offered.

Drift was startled. Mikaela had just met him, after all. “You’re offering to wash me by hand yourself?” he clarified. 

“Why not?” Mikaela shrugged. “I’ve done it for the others before. Bumblebee said that he tried a car wash once. It traumatized him so bad he said he’d rather wade into a lake full of weeds instead. He’s never turned down an offer for a wash since I met him.”

Drift didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t uncommon for friends to help each other get clean in the communal washracks, but that was between mechs. Maybe it was different for humans? Mikaela did say that she’d done it for the other Autobots. 

“So you’ve done this for Prime’s team?” Drift clarified further, feeling more than slightly out of his depth. 

“About once a month while I lived with them. The base we were staying at wasn’t set up for Cybertronians,” Mikaela said plainly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that is part of the reason this place has an absolutely huge water heater.” 

Drift stared at Mikaela for a minute, considering. “Thank you for your offer. I accept.” Drift wasn’t completely convinced, but he figured that, if nothing else, he would be able to get clean. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and transform into your alt mode while I go set up.” Mikaela walked over to the storage lockers in the back. “I have a supply of Bumblebee-approved soap and wax on hand,” she explained. “If you decide you don’t like them, we can try different brands later.”

“I’m sure what you have will be fine.” Anything she had was probably better than what he had in his small shuttle. It had been a while since the last safe starport where he could resupply.

Drift shifted into his alt form and waited tensely while Mikaela prepped buckets of water, soft cloths, and multiple bottles. “Do you only wash a mech while they’re in their alt mode?” he asked.

“Yes.” Mikaela paused and looked over at him. “Nobody ever asked me to clean their root form. But then, I never offered.” She briefly considered the logistics of washing a mech in root form vs alt mode. “It would probably take longer, but then, I could get deeper and clean more of your internals as well. Do you want me to wash you in your root form?” Mikaela offered. 

“No. Alt mode is fine,” Drift said firmly. 

Mikaela finished getting her supplies ready, and ran a hose over to Drift. “I’m going to go ahead and turn on some music while I work.” Mikaela said as she stopped next to a workbench to fiddle with the speaker there. “Let me know if you want me to turn something else on.” Whatever music she chose sounded soft and flowing, and completely alien to Drift. 

“I’m going to start rinsing you down now.” Mikaela warned Drift as she picked up the hose. “Let me know if anything hurts, or feels uncomfortable.”

The warm water from the hose swept gently across his plating. As Mikaela started rinsing him Drift took a chance and asked, “why did you say yes this morning?”

“You mean after I found out you used to be a Decepticon?” Mikaela clarified.

“Yes.”

A strong spray directed into his wheel wells hit a sensitive sensor that made Drift rock on his suspension slightly in surprise. “Sorry!” Mikaela quickly pulled the hose away. “Was that too much?”

“No, no.” Drift reassured her. “It just tickled. That’s all.”

Mikaela started the water again and carefully finished rinsing Drift’s wheel well before continuing their discussion. 

“How many chances have you had to kill me since you woke up?” Mikaela asked tangentially. 

“What?” Drift was confused. What did that have to do with anything?

“Two things: One, if you were still a Decepticon, chances are I would already be dead by now.” Mikaela pointed out. “And two, you are not your past.”

“How can you say that?” Drift asked.

“I’ve made some shitty choices too,” Mikaela said. “I got caught up in some stupid stuff I shouldn’t have. Granted, it didn’t involve killing people.” Mikaela paused to get her feelings under control. They were still too raw and close to the surface after her conversation with Optimus. “But... I guess what I’m trying to say is that I can understand how things can go wrong and sometimes you just need a chance to prove that’s not who you are anymore.”

“Thank you,” Drift said softly. However, he had a feeling... “That’s not the entire truth, is it?” he asked, careful to not sound confrontational. 

Mikaela bowed her head. “Because I’m selfish.” She admitted, not looking at Drift. After a moment of watching the water flow across the floor to the drain, she turned off the hose.

“What do you mean?” Drift said, still keeping his voice soft. He needed to tread carefully. This conversation had quickly become deeper than he was expecting. 

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” Mikaela confessed softly. She put down the hose and picked up a sponge, wetted it with soapy water, and started cleaning Drift’s roof. 

There wasn’t anything Drift could think of to say in response to that.

Drift was surprised when, instead of a quick wipe down, Mikaela proceeded to carefully clean every inch of armor. The methodical pace and pressure steadily spread across his roof’s sensornet, relaxing relays and cables that he hadn’t been aware were tight. As Mikaela continued to work her way down from his roof she systematically cleaned every seam and massaged every inch of his armor down his hood to his front grill. She then knelt down and begin her massaging strokes across Drift’s side panel, working her way towards his driver’s side door. 

Drift sat silently for several minutes, and just let himself relax under the massage. 

After some time had passed Drift asked, “why isn’t the other human supposed to know about me?” It had been bugging him since the previous night when Bumblebee had ordered him to stay in alt mode while the other human was there.

“It’s not you, Drift. It’s Sam. The other human, that is.” Mikaela explained, sitting back on her heels and waving her sponge to punctuate her statement. “I... care for the idiot, but he is unable to keep a secret. Sam doesn’t just talk, he has diarrhea of the mouth. He just keeps talking and talking until you just want to slap him to shut him up,” she said, rapidly. “I’m surprised everybody at school didn’t know about Bumblebee before graduation.”

Drift got the picture. Sam was a liability. But, for whatever reason, Optimus Prime thought Sam was important. Was it possibly for the same reason that Mikaela was important?

“Sam... he wants to be normal.” Mikaela continued to explain. It was as if once the words had started coming, she just couldn’t turn them off. She didn’t notice that soapy water from the sponge was soaking the knee of her jeans where she had rested her fists. “He wants to go to college, and just... just forget everything. To forget Mission City, the Autobots, everything.” 

Mikaela looked down, shook her head, and said, bitterly. “I couldn’t do that. I refuse to do that. The good and the bad... and some of the bad was really bad...” She trailed off, swallowing hard. “For a moment, I was a part of something bigger than myself, something more important than myself.” Mikaela explained softly, gaze vacant, looking at something only she could see. “If there is anything I can do to help, I will.” 

Drift had been fighting in the Cybertronian civil war longer than Mikaela had been alive; longer than humanity had existed as a species. He understood more than she realized. 

“Why do you fight?” Drift asked, simply. It was a question that he had struggled with after leaving the Decepticons, and the answer had ultimately led him to join the Autobots. 

“Don’t tell me right now,” Drift interrupted as Mikaela opened her mouth to answer, “I want you to take your time and think it over, then tell me.” Mikaela slowly nodded and knelt back up to continue washing his side panels with the same meticulous attention to detail as before. 

Half an hour later, Drift noticed that Mikaela had spent the last five minutes absently rubbing the same patch of armor. “Mikaela,” he said gently, “have you gotten stuck?”

Mikaela sat down on her heels with her legs tucked underneath her. “I want to say that the reason is as easy as Autobot: good, Decepticon: bad.” She said in response to his earlier question. “But it’s not really that simple, is it?”

“Things are rarely that simple,” said the mech who, during the course of the war, had gone from the upper ranks of the Decepticons to the lowest ranks of the Autobots. 

“I want to help.” Mikaela said, passionately. It was clear to Drift she felt deeply about this. “I want to help Bumblebee, Ratchet, Optimus, and Ironhide.” Her tone switched to one of deep frustration. “Even if all I can do is just sit in this safehouse, and pass along supplies to Autobot agents I’m never allowed to see.” Mikaela was quiet for a minute, pensive. “I don’t know why the war started, and I can’t say that I understand why everybody is still fighting. Optimus said that Cybertron is dead. And the Allspark was destroyed at Mission City. What is there left to fight over?”

“Sometimes,” Drift said, “you’ve been fighting for so long, that it’s become impossible to even consider that peace could be an option.”

Silently, Mikaela rose and finished scrubbing Drift, then got the hose out and gently rinsed off the soapy residue. 

As she massaged Drift dry with a soft towel, Mikaela noticed the loops getting caught in small stress fractures and worn surfaces on his armor. “Drift?” Mikaela softly broke the silence, running one finger down the seam between plates, feeling the roughness against her finger tips. “You have small stress fractures in your armor. I know it’s not much, but, if you like, I have medical-grade repair nanites that I can apply to help speed up the healing,” she offered.

“You have access to nanites?” Drift said. “I thought Prime decreed that Cybertronian technology wasn’t to be shared?”

“We’re not supposed to share Cybertronian technology with humans,” Mikaela corrected Drift with a grin. “Prime must have decided I don’t count, or Ratchet went behind his back. Ratchet gave me the nanite colony I have.”

Drift noticed how Mikaela had just counted herself among the Autobots, and separate from her fellow humans. To be in opposition to everything that had once defined you was a feeling that he was intimately familiar with. He didn’t think she consciously realized what she had done, though.

Mikaela misunderstood his hesitation. “If you don’t want it, that’s fine. I just thought I’d offer.” 

“No. Go ahead. I was only surprised.” Mikaela visibly brightened as she stood up and walked over to the hidden storage system to retrieve the nantites. She pulled out a small ceramic cube and brought it over to Drift’s side. Kneeling down, Mikaela dipped a couple of fingers in the cube and stroked her fingertips across his panels, carefully applying a thin layer wherever it felt rough. Meticulously she checked every panel, smoothing the nanites into any cracks she found so that the nanites could start healing Drift. 

Drift’s tactile sensor net tingled under Mikaela’s gentle ministrations. He felt himself relaxing again after their earlier conversation. 

When she was finished, Mikaela carefully scattered a handful of metal shavings from a bag across the top of the ceramic cube to feed the colony before sealing it and hiding it away again. 

Next Mikaela massaged wax onto his armor. Under her firm, circular strokes Drift relaxed into a melted puddle of armor. As she buffed his finish, Drift slipped into a light recharge. Drift was only distantly aware when Mikaela finished and cleaned up the supplies. The music was still playing softly when Mikaela called his name gently, “Drift? Are you recharging?”

He pulled himself back enough to answer. “I’m here Mikaela.” 

Mikaela smirked to herself. She knew a recharging mech when she saw one, even if they were in alt mode and tried to hide it. Besides, it wasn’t uncommon for mechs to doze off while being waxed. Bumblebee had once compared it to a full body massage. “Go ahead and recharge. I’m going to go clean up, then I have some homework from Ratchet to study.” Mikaela stroked her hand along the red detailing on his hood. “I promise I won’t leave without waking you up.”

Before Drift allowed himself to drop further into recharge, he set his proximity sensors to alert him if anything happened, then settled down and surrendered awareness.


	6. Chapter 6

FALL 2009

Optimus looked up from the status report he was reading as Ratchet walked up. “Welcome to my office.” Optimus said wryly to Ratchet. “What brings you out here?” With how crowded the Autobot hanger was with all of them packed into one building, Optimus had started driving to different points around Diego Garcia in order to find a sliver of peace to get his work done. Today he was sitting on the beach on the far side of the island.

:What else?: Ratchet replied, using comms for privacy. :Mikaela.:

“Why do you have to come all the way out here?” Ratchet grumbled out loud for the benefit of any listeners. 

Optimus smiled. “For the sunrise.”

“Humh.” Ratchet grumbled as he settled down next to Optimus. Sand itched, and removing it from his internals was an unending nightmare.

:I’ve read Drift’s latest report,: Optimus shared. 

:Is it any more detailed than his previous reports?: Ratchet asked wryly. 

:Not at all.: Optimus frowned. :According to him, Mikaela has adjusted well to his presence. He reports that, while it is not his area of expertise, she seems to be progressing well in her studies. He also works with her on physical fitness and team building exercises.: Optimus summed up the latest report. It was largely the same as every other report Drift had sent Optimus since becoming Mikaela’s guardian two months ago.

Ratchet, however, knew that Drift’s reports weren’t the only source of information Optimus had available. :And what does our spy say about that?: he asked.

Optimus waved the pad in his hands that had the special operations report on Mikaela and Drift. :By all appearances, what Drift has said is true. Mikaela’s bio signs show no sign of stress around Drift, nothing to indicate that she in any way doesn’t want him around. He has integrated into her daily life quite smoothly. They even take long drives together.:

:Probably for Drift’s sake.: Ratchet knew what happened to speedsters who were penned up too long, much less ones that were also frontline warriors. ‘Chaos’ was the most common description in reports from officers who learned that the hard way.

Optimus nodded. :What is interesting is what they do when they are out together.:

:Don’t leave me in suspense,: Ratchet said dryly.

Optimus looked over at Ratchet. :They find hidden areas for Drift to practice his swordwork. He also plays a variation of hide and hunt with Mikaela.: 

Though he was a doctor, Ratchet had been in the military more than long enough to understand what that meant. :Drift is teaching Mikaela escape and evasion techniques,: he observed approvingly.

:That, and strategies for what to do if attacked. According to this, the two of them have been practicing strategies to keep Mikaela out of Drift’s way so that she doesn’t slow him down, but he can still protect her.:

Ratchet looked thoughtful. :I didn’t expect that from an ex-’Con Wrecker,: he admitted. 

:It bodes well for the bond between them.: Optimus observed, laying a hand briefly on Ratchet’s shoulder. :How are Mikaela’s studies coming along?:

:Very well.: Optimus could feel how pleased Ratchet was at that. :Mikaela has an intuitive grasp of the concepts, an insatiable desire to learn, and her drive to succeed is among the highest of all the students I’ve had.: Ratchet shook his head. :If she was Cybertronian, I would be grooming her as my successor alongside First Aid.:

:Very high praise from you, old friend,: Optimus said approvingly. :I am working to find a way that we can bring her here, but the situation is still too dangerous. Right now the only thing keeping her safe is the illusion that we have cut her off completely.:

Optimus remembered when Mikaela had learned that the Autobots along with the fledgeling NEST organization was moving to Diego Garcia. She hadn’t even questioned that she would be going along with Optimus’ team. Mikaela had never come to peace with the fact that she was not allowed to come with. 

Mikaela had been hurt and disappointed, and Optimus understood that. But he couldn’t tell her about the reports he was receiving from his agents. Reports that outlined exactly how interested the American government was in the girl who was learning advanced cybernetic engineering from extraterrestrial robots. Optimus had monitored intercepted reports as her status was debated and various covert organizations had jockeyed to be in position to take possession of her when they determined she knew ‘enough.’ By separating her from the Autobots, the number of organizations showing interest had dropped, but Optimus was still concerned about the handful that were left. 

Ratchet noticed that his leader’s mood was falling as he brooded. :Mikaela is young and she feels things strongly. She will forgive you, Optimus,: he observed. :She loves you too much.:

:I will not let her carry this burden after everything else she has done for us,: Optimus said.

***

It had been two months since Mikaela and Drift had first met, and they had adapted well to living with each other. Mikaela studied long-distance with Ratchet, worked on freelance commission projects for clients, and ran errands. Drift guarded Mikaela, tried not to go crazy from inactivity, and answered Mikaela’s questions about Cybertron. 

As they got more comfortable with each other, Mikaela had started leaving the windows between her living quarters and the warehouse open so that they could interact easier during the day.

Drift was relaxing when he heard Mikaela sceam. Experience quickly told him that it was an emotional outpouring of extreme frustration. “What is it, Mikaela?” he called up to her, dismissing his latest internet search. 

After a few more incoherent syllables, Mikaela finally resorted to coherent words. “I’m fed up trying to figure out where the fucking anterior something-something coolant line feeds into the bilateral something-else valve but the fucking diagrams Ratchet sent might as well be a Escher painting,” Mikaela yelled, standing up from the table where her pad and notebooks were scattered. She paced towards where Drift was framed in the open window, frustrated. “I can’t fucking well make heads or tails of the fucking thing!”

Drift started counting, “One, two, three, four, and one, two...” He stood and faced Mikaela and waited while she started following the verbal prompt and got her breathing, and her frustration, under control. The height of the loft put Mikaela face to face with Drift.

“You fixed my coolant system when I first came here,” Drift said reassuringly. “You can do this.” He noticed the effect that his simple encouragement had on Mikaela. 

Mikaela smiled at him. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Drift, but when I was fixing you I didn’t need a diagram,” she explained. “I just had to find what was leaking and patch it up.” Mikaela turned back to the table, picked up her pad, and triggered the holographic display. “Right now I’m trying to learn the coolant system, and that includes knowing what it looks like and where to find it.” Using the tactile interface she moved through the holographic blueprints. Internal structures and framing moved in and out of focus as Mikaela manipulated the display. “I know where it should be, but I can’t find it on the models.”

Mikaela was getting frustrated again just thinking about it. Time to redirect. “Maybe it’s time to take a break, then.” Drift suggested, shifting on his feet in anticipation.

Mikaela noticed. “You just want to go for a ride,” she accused playfully. Long drives had become a frequent cure for cabin fever for both of them and they indulged frequently. “Let me lock up this stuff and I’ll be right down.” Mikaela started gathering her notes and pad.

“You caught me.” Drift admitted playfully. “I’m just interested in you because an empty car driving down the interstate gets too much attention.” It felt good that their relationship had reached a point where they could make jokes without assuming offence. 

Drift transformed and was waiting at the foot of the stairs as Mikaela reached the bottom. She slid into Drift’s open driver’s side door, threw her small bag on the passenger seat, and secured the 4-point harness as Drift coasted out of the warehouse and onto city streets. 

“Speaking of that,” Mikaela began, “I never asked before, but why don’t you have a holographic driver like ‘Bee?”

“A hardlight hologram like what Bumblebee has is a scout upgrade. It helps them blend in on organic worlds like this one,” Drift explained. “When I was rebuilt, it wasn’t an option. Now, since I’m a warrior, not a scout, it’s not something that I’d be upgraded with.”

Mikaela asked something that had been on her mind for the last couple of months. “How does a warrior end up as a guardian?” 

“You need to ask Optimus Prime what his reasoning was.” Drift didn’t understand it. He would have thought that an ex-Decepticon would be the worst guardian Optimus Prime could have chosen. 

However, this line of questioning did give him a new topic to explore with Mikaela. “Do you know what a guardian is?” Drift asked casually.

It had become common for Drift and Mikaela to talk during these long drives. Between the freedom of the open road and the privacy of Drift’s alt mode they had both slowly shared bits of their hopes, fears, and dreams. Drift had also slowly taught Mikaela what he knew about Cybertron and the war. He hoped it didn’t get her in trouble with Optimus Prime.

“Isn’t it another name for a bodyguard?” From Drift’s tone of voice, Mikaela doubted it was that simple, though.

“Not entirely,” Drift explained, “it is the modern form of a more ancient tradition that has become diluted and stripped of much of its original meaning. These days a guardian’s role is largely as a bodyguard, traditionally, however, guardians also taught and guided their charge as they grew to take their place in society.” Drift accelerated up the onramp and took the highway headed east out of town. The afternoon sun came in through his back window. “Not many remember that there existed an older tradition: Bonded Guardians.”

Mikaela could practically hear the capitalization. “What is the difference? Between guardians and Bonded Guardians”

“The level of commitment. A Bonded Guardian serves. Whether in front as a guide, along side as a companion, or behind as a supporter. They are bound to their charge on a spark-deep level. A guardian can always leave. A Bonded Guardian won’t.”

“That’s... wow...” Mikaela trailed off. 

“Bonded Guardians are largely forgotten to history,” Drift continued his lecture. He knew down to his most basic code that it was very important that she knew this. “The longest lasting remnant of the old tradition is-or rather was-the bond between the Lord Prime and their Lord High Protector.”

“Optimus has a Bonded Guardian?” Mikaela wondered who it could be. Ironhide? Or was it somebody that she hadn’t met yet? 

“Yes, he does,” Drift confirmed with a smirk in his voice. 

“Who?” Mikaela demanded.

“Megatron.”

“Megatron?!” Mikaela yelped. “You mean Optimus Prime and Megatron are bonded?” Mikaela almost couldn’t believe it. 

“Yes, they are.”

“How does that even work?”

“The Prime is chosen by the Matrix of Leadership,” Drift explained. “The Lord High Protector is the one mech whose spark resonates perfectly with the Prime’s. Not every Prime finds their Lord High Protector, however.”

“Wait, Mikaela interjected, “you said that a Bonded Guardian won’t leave their bonded. But Megatron left Optimus. How could he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Drift admitted, “I wasn’t about to risk my spark asking Megatron why.”

“Ask Megatron?” Mikaela asked for clarification, “Why would you ask Megatron?”

“I was Megatron’s protégé for quite some time before he set me aside.” Until Megatron had sent him to serve Turmoil. With the benefit of hindsight Drift could see the first steps that ultimately led him to leaving the Decepticons. “He insisted I learn about such things.”

“Why?”

“I like to think that I was more than just another subordinate,” Drift admitted wistfully. “But it’s actually because he recognized something in me that he saw in himself.”

“You are nothing like Megatron,” Mikaela said flatly, giving the dashboard a sharp look.

Drift tapped his brakes lightly to avoid a distracted driver, then accelerated smoothly to pass them. 

“You would be surprised,” Drift said seriously.

OK, that was a serious emotional minefield with warning lights all over it, Mikaela thought. Time to redirect the conversation. “If Optimus and Megatron are bonded, how can they stand to fight each other?”

“It’s not impossible for a Bonded Guardian to fight with their bonded. Disagreements happen.”

“A four million year long civil war is more than a disagreement,” Mikaela pointed out.

“I know,” Drift replied softly. “I don’t understand it either.”

“That... I...” Mikaela had trouble wrestling a coherent thought out of the mess that her brain had become. “I give up,” she declared, throwing her hands in the air, forgetting about the roof. Mikaela winced, rubbing her abused hands. “You broke my brain. And my hands.” 

Drift knew from experience that this meant that Mikaela would need time to digest all the information he had just thrown at her. Downshifting, he passed a semi trailer and accelerated into the open road in front of him, keeping a scanner active for speed traps. 

After letting Mikaela zone out and watch the scenery for half an hour, Drift vibrated her seat gently to get her attention. “Why don’t you pick our next topic,” he said as Mikaela pulled out a water bottle and took a drink. 

Mikaela took a long moment to consider all the questions she hadn’t asked before. After the heavy conversation they just had, they both needed lighter topic. “Do you have a boyfriend, girlfriend, significant other, or something like that?”

Drift smiled to himself. “Not currently. I have a friend. Or at least somebody who I think could be my friend,” he admitted.

“Really, who?” Mikaela asked curiously. She got the impression after living with Drift for the last couple of months that he was a bit of a loner. Draping her arms over the steering wheel she asked, “do I know them?”

“No, he’s not on Earth... At least, I don’t think he is,” Drift clarified. After living in the safe house for the last couple of months he knew that there were other Autobots on Earth that neither Mikaela or he had been told about. “His name is Percepter.”

“What’s he do?” Mikaela was curious about what kind of mech could catch Drift’s attention.

“He used to be a scientist. Now he’s currently a sniper with the Wreckers.”

“That’s the group you belong to, right? At least, when you aren’t being assigned to watch over the local wildlife,” Mikaela said in a wry attempt at humor.

Drift vibrated with a quick laugh. “Yes, that’s my team.”

“Do you miss them?” Mikaela said, leaning back in her seat.

“Not really,” Drift said, perhaps too honestly.

“Why?”

“We fight together, but we aren’t really friends.”

“It’s the ex-Decepticon thing, isn’t it?” Mikaela was offended on Drift’s behalf. He didn’t deserve to be treated this way. And it didn’t help that he seemed resigned to the fact. 

“Largely, yes. I was a very good Decepticon for a very long time,” Drift explained. “Compared to that, my time as an Autobot is a feather trying to hold back a landslide.” Great, now he was getting poetic. Dammit, Megatron.

“And they’re afraid you’ll turn back?”

“For some mech’s even the fact that I betrayed the Decepticons counts against me. They think that, having betrayed one master, why would I not betray another?”

“Now, that is too far.” Mikaela was incensed. 

Drift could feel her gripping the steering wheel tightly enough he had to disengage the controls so it wouldn’t continue move along with him. “Breathe, Mikaela,” he reminded her. “Then, let's pick a different topic.”

Mikaela worked her way through a breathing exercise to release stress that Drift had taught her. Not that Cybertronians needed to breathe. He’d researched human meditation techniques and used online video tutorials to teach her, after trying to teach her Cybertronian methods failed completely.

Drift shivered as Mikaela idly ran her nails along the stitching on his steering wheel for several minutes in silence before she asked quietly, “Have you ever been in love, Drift?” 

“Twice,” Drift admitted slowly. “Both of them are dead, though.”

And now they were entering the deep end again, Mikaela thought. 

A motorcycle passed them probably going 15-20 mph over the speed limit. Mikaela watched the taillights as they receded into the distance. “Do you miss them?” she asked.

“Yes,” Drift said softly. 

“What were they like?”

“The first one, he burned so bright. He had this overwhelming aura that inspired devout admiration. I would have followed him into the Pit and back. I did follow him into the Pit, and I never realized it until...” Drift trailed off. “It took me a long time to realize we’d gone astray,” he said softly.

“Megatron,” Mikaela said perceptively, putting the pieces together. “You loved Megatron.”

“I still do.” Drift turned off the main highway and onto a smaller road that wound up into the mountains. Traffic thinned out as they passed under giant trees.

“How do you leave someone like that?” Mikaela had a hard enough time dumping her last boyfriend, Trent. And he didn't have an army at his command. She couldn’t imaging trying to leave somebody like Megatron.

“I didn’t leave him, he sent me away,” Drift admitted. “Demoted me, put me under the command of a mech called Turmoil. Bastard.” Mikaela thought that if Drift had been capable of spitting he would have after that curse.

“Megatron or Turmoil?” Mikaela asked cheekily.

“Both.” Drift laughed. “I hated Turmoil, and he hated me. Finally left when I had enough. It was a spur of the moment thing. I wasn’t really planning on leaving the Decepticons,” Drift admitted. He realised that he was treading a fine line with Mikaela. She could go to Prime with everything he told her at any time. 

“So how did you go from Deadlock to Drift?” 

There it was. Mikaela had finally asked it. Drift hadn’t admitted the real reason to anybody, given how deeply personal it was. The fact that the reason was entwined with the secret of the city below the sands was just an excuse. Any Autobots who asked were given the sanitized version. Still the truth, but missing all the deeply personal bits. But Mikaela...

“I met Wing. Compassionate, kind, and skilled enough to thrash me like I was an untrained newspark. He considered helping others as his highest calling.” Drift paused, caught up in his memories. 

“He made me realize a few unpleasant truths about the Decepticons.” Drift knew that was a gross understatement, but the realizations had been painful as they slowly revealed what he had previously only unconsciously understood.

“The worst part is,” he confessed, “I never realized I was in love with him until he was dead. If you had asked me before, I would have sworn I hated him. When he was cut down in front of me, I lost it. All I have left of him is his sword and what he taught me.” 

Mikaela didn’t know what to say to that. It was so far beyond any relationship that she had ever had.

Drift’s voice was a little shaky as he concluded, “the worst part is, I’ll never know if he loved me.”

“He does,” Mikaela said absently. 

Startled, Drift focused on Mikaela. She had an uncharacteristically dreamy, far away expression on her face. 

“Mikaela?” Drift said, slightly disturbed by how she was suddenly acting. “Mikaela!” he repeated sharply. 

Mikaela physically flinched. “What?”

“You drifted away on me,” Drift explained.

“Oh, sorry,” Mikaela said absently, like she still wasn’t all there. Leaning against the door, she turned her head to look out the side window. 

Drift discreetly made sure his doors were locked. 

Mikaela spent a minute staring at the trees as they passed. Drift took the opportunity to settle himself from the emotionally charged conversation. 

“With Wing, how did you know you loved him?” Mikaela asked suddenly.

“He made me want to be a better person,” Drift said rawly. It was clear from his voice that he didn’t want to continue the conversation.

Mikaela and Drift passed the next few miles in silence.

“You’re lucky,” Mikaela said after some time. “I’ve never had that. My boyfriends only wanted an accessory to hang on their arm that they could brag to their friends about. Even Sam just wanted me because I was the hot girl in school.” Mikaela paused and sat up straight. “I just realized, in the last two months the two of us have talked more than Sam and I have in the two years we’ve been together.” 

Mikaela had a sudden flash of insight. “That’s what you’ve been doing with me, isn’t it? The teaching guardian thing,” Mikaela guessed. It would explain the difference in Drift’s behavior towards her compared to how Bumblebee and Sam interacted.

“Yes,” Drift admitted. 

“Thanks, Drift,” Mikaela said softly.

“What?” Drift asked, confused about what she would be thanking him for. 

“Thank you for caring,” Mikaela repeated. “You didn’t need to, but you did.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mikaela. You’re a much more receptive a student than I was.”

“Really?”

“My mentors, at least the smart ones, usually prefaced any lessons with a few rounds in the sparring ring first,” Drift said wryly. “I wasn’t always the most receptive student.”

Mikaela chuckled. “A little high strung?”

“Slightly,” Drift acknowledged wryly.

“Can I ask about it?” Mikaela asked, curious about what a younger Drift had been like. 

“Not right now.” Drift had dug up enough painful memories. And from what Mikaela had talked about, their conversation had probably grazed some sore spots for her as well. 

Mikaela gripped the steering wheel. Drift still had it disconnected. “So there will be a later?” she asked.

Drift understood what she was really trying to say. “Mikaela, I’m not leaving,” he reassured her.

“You can if you want, remember. One month left.”

“I already made up my mind,” Drift said firmly.

“...thanks for staying Drift,” Mikaela said softly. “I’d really like a hug right now, but I can’t because you’re driving.”

“We can when we get there,” Drift and Mikaela had found the hidden spot during a drive a few weeks ago. The only humans nearby had been part of an illegal grow operation. It had taken some strategy to drive them away without bringing the gang down on top of them, but Drift had done it. Now they used it as a place for Drift to get out, stretch his root mode freely, and get some sword practice in.

“How far?” Mikaela tried to pretend she wasn’t as eager as Drift.

“Just a couple of miles.”

A couple of miles later, Drift pulled off the road and triggered his transformation without waiting for Mikaela to exit, carefully removing her from her seat and cradling her in the crook of his arm as he transformed around her. He held Mikaela against his warm chassis as he pulled a blanket out of his subspace and tucked it around her to ward off the fall chill. 

Mikaela hugged Drift, her arms around his neck and rested her head along his jaw armor.


	7. Chapter 7

A couple of weeks later Bumblebee called while Mikaela was scrubbing the shower. 

“Drift!” Mikaela yelled, projecting her voice across the loft. “I can’t get the phone right now. Can you ping ‘Bee and see what he wants?”

She continued to scrub the tiles for a few more minutes before Drift’s voice came back. “He’s currently 15 minutes out with Sam. Sam needs to see you. It’s apparently urgent.”

“Ugh. I need to wash up.” Mikaela knew Sam would be expecting her to look her ‘high school beauty queen’ best. He’d teased her relentlessly after the one time he’d shown up unannounced and caught her wearing overalls and elbow deep in engine grease. Sam had only stopped teasing her after Mikaela arranged for him to ‘catch’ her draped over a client’s bike that she had just finished detailing earlier that day. She’d been wearing a crop top, short shorts, and not much else. A little T&A always shut Sam up.

“Need me to help hide anything down there?” Mikaela asked Drift.

Drift checked Mikaela’s workspace as well as the corner he had claimed for himself. Her latest client’s project was currently in pieces on the workbench, but none of them were Cybertronian. “No, we’re good,” he called back. 

“Great! Thanks for checking!” Mikaela replied as she quickly pulled her hair up. Stopping at her closet, she pulled out her tightest top. Hopefully cleavage would distract Sam from her lack of makeup. 

Mikaela left her bedroom and quickly checked the kitchen table to make sure she didn’t leave any study notes out or anything else noticeably Cybertronian. Moments later she heard the roll up door start to open. Bumblebee and Sam were here. 

Sam hardly waited for Bumblebee to stop before he threw open the door and leapt out. “Mikaela, Mikaela, Mikaela,” Sam rattled off in his usual, high-strung manner. He just about tackled her on the last few steps as she came down the stairs. 

“Sam!” Mikaela exclaimed as she grabbed Sam’s shoulders to avoid being knocked over and tried to settle him down. But Sam kept rambling on about his mother’s kitchen, the kitchen appliances, a hole in the floor, a fire... 

Behind Sam, Bumblebee had transformed out of his alt mode and into his root mode. Sam, however, was still too wound up to notice. 

“Sam!” Mikaela said sharply. Apparently whatever had happened also involved mini bots, Bumblebee, how much his Dad was pissed about the destruction of the garden... 

Glancing at Bumblebee, Mikaela noticed that he was fairly relaxed, so whatever had happened at Sam’s house, it clearly hadn’t followed them here. 

Mikaela finally resorted to raising her voice. “SAM!” He finally shut up and there was blessed silence.

“First, sit.” Mikaela commanded, pulling him over to a shop stool. 

Sam sat, looking at her like he’d never seen her before. 

“Now, pause. Relax. And take a deep breath,” Mikaela mimed taking a breath and encouraged Sam to do the same. After a moment she said, “and now let it out.”

It didn’t work. Sam started chattering off again at high speed. “That’s some zen shit. Have you been taking lessons?”

“I’ve been learning meditation, yes.” Mikaela said with a calm, even voice. “It helps with the screaming nightmares.” Before Sam could sidetrack the conversation, Mikaela cut him off. “Now, without raising your voice, slowly describe what happened.”

After Mikaela finished pulling the story out of Sam she stood there in silence, thinking. She could see Drift in his usual parking spot beside the loft, listening. In the open area beyond him, Bumblebee was standing and paying attention. 

“OK...” Mikaela started. Sam opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but Mikaela quickly lifted a finger in front of his face to quiet him before he started a new torrent of words. “Now. Slowly. Tell me what you need from me.”

“I need you to take the shard. I can’t have it around the house.” Sam pulled a dirty, but fortunately not crusty, sock out of his pocket and unrolled it to revel a piece of metal. 

At this point Mikaela couldn’t even feel disgusted. She just felt mildly disappointed. Typical Sam, he couldn’t even grab a clean sock. 

“Why me, Sam?” Mikaela asked as Sam tried to shove the dirty sock, with shard, into her hands. She dodged the sock itself and deftly plucked the shard out of the mess.

“Don’t touch it!” Sam yelled, too late, and dove off the stool and underneath a table, covering his head. Bumblebee raised an arm, clearly ready to bring out his cannon. 

But nothing happened. 

In Mikaela’s hands the shard of the Allspark was just a slightly warm piece of metal. She turned it over, looking at the remains of elaborate etching on one side. It wasn’t even sharp. The severed edges were slightly rounded, as with age. Holding it felt like a puzzle piece slotting into place that she hadn’t even realized was missing. It was like coming home.

“Nothing happened,” Sam sad, numbly. “You touched the shard and nothing happened. Why did nothing happen?”

“I don’t know why nothing happened. What were you expecting to happen?” If Sam’s rambling was correct, probably the destruction of the world, or at least her kitchen.

Sam ignored Mikaela’s question. “Quick, you need to hide it. Somewhere safe.” He clapped his hands together. “That’s it! You have a safe, don’t you?”

Mikaela actually did have a safe buried in the corner of her workshop. It was her decoy safe. Among everything hidden in the warehouse the safe was the easiest to find, and as such, held the most mundane of her secrets. After all, the biggest secrets she held were related to the Autobots, and a simple safe wouldn’t stop Sector 7, much less a Decepticon. 

Sam nearly ended up dragging Mikaela across the room. He stood over her shoulder, bouncing back and forth out of sheer nervous energy as she fumbled at the half-remembered combination. Finally, Mikaela was able to focus past Sam’s distraction, opened the safe, gently laid the shard inside it, and locked the safe again. As the shard disappeared from her sight her chest grew numb. Mikaela rubbed her sternum gently.

“So, Mikaela,” Sam said casually as she walked him back towards the stairs where Bumblebee was standing, waiting. “I don’t need to go back yet. Mom said that I could take my time.” Mikaela understood what Sam really meant when he was trying to be smooth like this. 

“Is that true, Bumblebee?” Mikaela looked up at her yellow and black best friend. Bumblebee nodded with a positive chirrup.

“OK, Sam,” Mikaela said, taking one of his hands, “but you’re gonna have to work for it.”

Mikaela looked back up at Bumblebee. “Enjoy the break. I’ll send him down when I’m done with him.” Bumblebee played a short clip of a crowd cheering.

“Mikaela!” Sam exclaimed, embarrassed. 

Sam eagerly tugged her up the stairs and into her bedroom, barely giving Mikaela enough time to hit the controls to close the windows. 

Downstairs, Bumblebee watched until the windows in the bedroom turned opaque, then turned his gaze to the parked Subaru. He opened a comm line to the other mech. :She wasn’t kidding about the screaming nightmares, was she?:

Drift sat there silently and did not answer Bumblebee. 

:Mikaela’s had nightmares on and off since Mission City.: Bumblebee casually stretched and flinched as he tweaked a kinked cable. He never got enough time outside of his alt mode these days. :If it helps, that’s good.: 

Bumblebee sat down on the other side of the warehouse from the loft and started massaging his legs, testing each tension cable and connection. For several minutes Bumblebee was silent except for the sound of his hands on plating. As he worked his way up to his arms, Bumblebee spoke again. :You and Mikaela talk a lot, don’t you?: He asked the quiet mech.

:More than you and Sam seem to.: Drift replied back, dryly.

:Touchè.: Bumblebee waved a casual salute at Drift and closed the comm line. 

Both mechs waited, keeping their sensor suites focused on their respective charges, until Sam and Mikaela came back down. 

***

The large metal roll up door had just finished closing behind Bumblebee when Mikaela turned around and walked past Drift and back to the safe in the corner. Behind her Mikaela heard the tell-tale harmonics of Drift’s transformation sequence. By now she could probably tell Drift’s sequence apart from the others even if blindfolded.

Mikaela swiftly opened the safe and retrieved the Allspark shard. It sat, deceptively small, but strangely heavy, in her hand. The numbness in her chest dissipated. 

“What are you going to do with it, Mikaela?” Drift asked, crouching down near where Mikaela was standing underneath the loft. Having the shard so close by made him nervous. He didn’t know how Bumblebee had coped with carrying it here. 

“Me?” Mikaela said lightly, turning to face Drift. “What about you?” she said, walking towards him.

“Sam gave it to you. It seems fitting that you decide what to do with it.” Drift hid his concern for Mikaela. She had already been touched by the energy of the Allspark. What would contact with a physical piece do to her? At the same time, Mikaela could be fiercely independent if she thought he was coddling her.

“Can you tell me if the shard is detectable on your scanners?” Mikaela asked Drift, holding the shard out for him to scan. “Is there anything that tells you that this piece of metal is different?”

While he didn’t have the specialized scanners of a scout or a medic, Drift used his deepest and more detailed scan. “No. As far as I can tell it’s just a piece of metal,” he announced. 

“Good,” Mikaela said. She turned towards one of the regular storage cabinets and pulled out a coil of stainless steel wire, a rag, wire snips, and pliers. “I’m going to wear it,” she explained. “I’ll wrap it with wire and wear it on a chain. As far as anybody else needs to know, it’s in the safe.” Mikaela started to polish up a length of wire using the rag. 

“That won’t hold off a determined search for long,” Drift pointed out, standing back up.

“No, but the time they waste going after the safe can give us a head start.” Mikaela said. She picked up a pliers to help her shape the wire around the shard. “You taught me that.”

“You’ve learned well,” Drift praised her. 

Mikaela turned her head and flashed a quick smile up at Drift. “I have a good teacher,” she said, before turning back to her project.


	8. Chapter 8

Wheelie carefully inserted his probe into the lock on the human-sized door. He sneered. The mechanical lock was laughably easy for even a simple drone like himself to open. Wheelie hoped that, when brought the Allspark shard back in triumph, Soundwave would would reward him. Maybe he’d even be upgraded! 

Easing the door open, Wheelie slipped in and closed the door silently behind him. He carefully made his way around the scattered workbenches and tools. 

A silent alert from the security system flashed in the corner of Drift’s HUD, interrupting his meditations. The side door underneath the loft stairs had been opened. A quick scan confirmed that Mikaela was currently upstairs in the loft, so it hadn’t been her. 

Drift brought up his passive sensors while simultaneously accessing the warehouse’s security system. It didn’t take him long to find the source of the disturbance in the workspace underneath the loft. 

Rising to his feet, Drift silently stalked across the floor, crouched down, and deftly picked the small mech up. It had clearly been trying to hack the combination to the safe.

Wheelie squealed as he was suddenly lifted high in the air and turned around. He just about fainted when he saw what was holding him. The mech had big swords, Autobot brands, and looked very very unhappy to see him. 

“Mikaela,” Drift called with a commanding voice, not taking his eyes off the small mech. “We have an uninvited visitor.”

Drift heard a clatter as Mikaela hastily set down her pad and came over to the open window closest to Drift. He held out the squirming trespasser to her as she approached. “He came in through the side door and was trying to open the safe when I caught him,” Drift explained.

Mikaela looked at the small, wailing mech. This one was even smaller than Frenzy. He was dwarfed by Drift’s hand. “Hold him still while I deactivate his communications.” 

Even with Drift’s help, Mikaela still struggled to gain a grip on the small, squirming chassis. Eventually Mikaela found the transmission lines and followed them back to the comm suite and physically disconnected the circuits. 

“What d’ya think you’re doing!” Wheelie complained loudly. “You can’t do that! Rape! Rape! You are offending my dignity!” he cried out.

Mikaela grabbed him firmly around the lower face, effectively muzzling the small mech. “Quiet!” she ordered sternly. Mikaela then continued in a low, even voice. “Now, this is what is going to happen. I am going to ask you questions. And you are going to answer.” She held his eyes for a long moment before letting go. 

“And if I don’?” Wheelie snarked. Organics weren’t that tough.

Drift, still holding the small mech, turned him to face Drift. “If you don’t answer her questions, then you’ll be answering my questions,” Drift said with razor sharp menace and a smirk on his lips that showed just a hint of fang. “You’ll want to answer her questions.” He turned the small mech around to face Mikaela again. 

On the other hand, Wheelie thought, the big mech was terrifying. 

“What is your name?” Mikaela asked.

Wheelie, however, was still a stubborn bastard. “Don’ see what it is to you.”

Drift squeezed his hand slightly. “Answer her,” he ordered.

As his plating threatened to buckle, so did Wheelie’s stubborn streak. “OK! OK! It’s Wheelie,” he squealed. “I’m just a salvage drone!”

“Why are you here, Wheelie?” How long was this going to take, Mikaela thought. It was worse than trying to get a straight story out of Sam.

“The Fallen wants the shard!” Wheelie babbled pitifully, not noticing the flinch that Drift quickly suppressed. “Gimme the shard, I need the shard, need the shard or I’m gonna be scrapped!” 

Mikaela noticed Drift’s reaction to the Fallen’s name. However, she had more immediate concerns. “What makes you think I have the shard?”

“The floppy-headed guy with the yellow car said you did,” Wheelie said warily. 

Mikaela looked at Drift. Neither was surprised that the secret had been exposed by Sam’s overactive vocal cords and lack of discretion.

Drift quickly pinged Bumblebee with an update about the situation, just to be told that Bumblebee was busy on the East Coast. There had been an attack on Sam’s university and Bumblebee ordered him to stay put. 

“Bumblebee’s not available. We’re supposed to stay here, Mikaela,” Drift passed on.

“Wheelie, who knows you’re here?” she demanded. Mikaela stepped forward to loom over the small mech, trying to intimidate him. After all, Wheelie would barely come up to her knee if Drift wasn’t holding him up.

“Just Soundwave. Soundwave found the boy, and I followed the boy to you,” Wheelie whined. He was being cooperative, but the big Autobot still held him tight.

Mikaela’s heart just about stopped and she felt sick, though she tried her best to keep a straight face in front of Wheelie. She and Drift traded a significant look.

If Soundwave already knew where they were... “We need to leave,” Drift said what they both were thinking, “and quickly.” He tried to ping Bumblebee with an update, but was ignored. 

“I’ll grab my stuff and be right down.” Mikaela said, heading to the kitchen first to pick up her pad and phone. Once she had those, all she needed to do was grab her purse and the duffle bag next to the door. 

The duffle bag was one of the precautions that Drift had had Mikaela prepare after he became her guardian. It held enough clothes, food, and toiletries to last a few days if they needed to run, and a supply of cash so she could purchase more supplies while staying under the radar. 

Once downstairs she quickly rummaged through the workshop and found a metal box and a strong lock. “Get him in here.” Mikaela held the lid open as Drift started wrangling the suddenly squirmy mech into the box.

“I’m not going in there. You can’t make me get in there. No, no, no!” Wheelie protested loudly, desperately holding onto the sides of the box.

“You either come with us, in the box, alive, or you stay here, dead.” Drift growled, frustrated. “Which way will it be?” They didn’t have time to coddle the little spy.

“Alive! Just don’t hurt me!” Wheelie sounded terrified. 

“We’re not going to hurt you, we just can’t have you running around,” Mikaela said as she closed and locked the box before remotely triggering the roll up door. Behind her, Drift transformed into his alt mode.

As the door started to open, however, a set of wheels were revealed. There was a car parked next to the door on the sidewalk, blocking Drift’s exit. Drift’s engine rumbled ominously.

The tension in the warehouse rose with the door, until the unknown vehicle was fully visible. 

Mikaela stalked forward, walking in front of Drift as he started rolling ahead, forcing him to come to a halt or hit her. 

“Mikaela!” Drift said quickly. But Mikaela was laser focused on the car in front of her, and she ignored him.

Mikaela couldn’t believe what the fuck she was seeing.

“A fucking powder blue and white Toyota GT-One. There is only one street-legal Toyota GT-One in the world, and it’s in Germany. You literally couldn’t be more obvious if you painted yourself fluorescent orange. You may as well just roll right up to Sector Seven and introduce yourself in person,” Mikaela said sarcastically. “What the fuck were you thinking!?”

A light tenor voice that sounded like it came straight from the BBC said irritably, ”it’s _pearl_.”

“Ok, Pearl,” Mikaela said sharply. “What are you doing here?”

“Pearl is not my name, it’s the name of the finish. It’s not _white_ , it’s pearl,” the mech said irritably. “The Lord Prime sent me as an additional guard while he faces Megatron and his Decepticons.”

The voice was a sexy as the alt mode, but Mikaela was skeptical of sexy men with hot bodies. “Who are you and why should we believe you?” she demanded.

“You can call me Mirage,” the mech said, suddenly courteous. “I’ve sent my credentials to your guardian.”

Drift had indeed received the transmission from the other mech, which is why he hadn’t transformed and beat the crap out of the other mech while he was talking to Mikaela. “I’ve heard the name before, and his ID checks out,” he notified Mikaela after checking it thoroughly.

Mikaela nodded. “Great, you can follow us.” She turned around to pick up her luggage and tossed it in Drift’s backseat.

“My orders are to stay here,” Mirage said pointedly, regarding the ex-’Con suspiciously.

“Not when we’ve just caught one of Soundwave’s spies in the building,” Mikaela pointed out as she hoisted the box holding Wheelie and settled it in Drift’s trunk. “We’ve disabled the spy’s communications, but, now that we know Soundwave is around, we need to assume that all communications are compromised until proven otherwise.”

“You make a good argument,” Mirage said, “but you will be following me.” He pulled forward, leaving room for Drift to exit the building. 

“Good enough,” Mikaela replied. “Ready to go, Drift?”

Drift opened his passenger door in response. Mikaela slid in and buckled up as Drift pulled out into the street, remotely triggering the door to shut and the security system to arm before following the other mech out of town.


	9. Chapter 9

Apparently Mirage could turn invisible, which helped them stay under the radar, because, when visible, Mirage stood out worse than a Macy’s Day parade balloon. This meant that Mirage sent directions to Drift by comm as they wound their way north along smaller country highways. 

Mikaela didn’t know how Mirage kept out of the way of other cars, considering that they couldn’t see him, but as long as he didn’t have an accident, she didn’t care. She spent most of her time inside Drift’s alt mode; sleeping when she was tired, reading when she needed something to do, or listening to the radio when she was bored. Drift and Mikaela didn’t talk much with Mirage nearby. 

They stayed constantly on the move. Mirage would only let them stop when Mikaela absolutely needed to.

Running without knowing where they were going or exactly what they were running from wore on Mikaela the hardest. Drift did his best, but she suffered from low-level motion sickness and constant headaches. Mikaela was so miserable that she she didn’t realize it was happening until it was too late. 

Slowly, gradually, tension had been coiling up in her chest. Mikaela was napping in the driver’s seat when it hit hit. From one moment to the next she was suddenly gripped by an overwhelming sense of dread. 

Mikaela jerked awake, clutching her chest. “Drift, stop!” she cried urgently. The words felt like they had been physically torn from her throat. “We need to stop!” 

Drift fishtailed, surprised, and rapidly came to a dead stop at the side of the road. Mikaela absently realized that she could feel the invisible Mirage as he narrowly missed rear ending Drift.

“What’s wrong, Mikaela?” Drift’s worried voice filled his passenger compartment. Mikaela, however, was not able to hear him over the sudden rush of sensation that slammed into her consciousness with the force of an out of control freight train. 

“Optimus... no,” Mikaela whispered, “no, no, no, no, NO!” Her voice raised into a scream of pure anguish. 

Mikaela’s body contorted against the straps holding her in the seat, spine bowed and head thrown backwards. It burned. She tore at her chest, ripping the neckline of her shirt and scoring several bloody furrows as her nails raked harshly across the skin of her chest. Something inside of her broke, ripping and tearing her up from the inside.

“OPTIMUS!” 

Mikaela suddenly collapsed inwards on herself, like a doll whose strings had been cut. She stared vacantly at nothing. “Optimus,” she whispered, “come back, please.” With great, gulping sobs she started crying. Large, fat tears rolling down her face. 

Drift felt hopeless in the face of her anguish. He carefully reclined her seat and warmed it gently to help counteract a possible shock reaction. He didn’t know what else to do.

Mirage opened a short range comm line and asked Drift what was going on, but Drift had no answer. All that Mirage had seen was Mikaela’s fit, he hadn’t heard what Mikaela had said.

“Mikaela,” Drift asked softly, carefully. “What happened?”

“He’s dead,” Mikaela moaned, trying to roll over but unable to because of the harness. “Optimus. He’s dead.”

It sounded unbelievable, but Drift knew Mikaela. He knew she was not lying. She wouldn’t lie to him, much less about something like this.

Drift passed on a summary of what happened to Mirage. 

:It can’t be true,: Mirage quickly replied back over comms. He clearly did not believe what was happening. :Prime has survived too much to fall now.:

:Can you check?: Drift asked urgently. :You are the current head of Special Operations, are you not?: 

Mirage was instantly suspicious. Special operations tended to keep their departmental rank obscured behind their general army rank. Most of the common soldiers of the Autobot army didn’t even realize Jazz was the head of special operations, and not just one of Prime’s lieutenants. :How do you know that?: he demanded.

:Decepticon bounty lists,: Drift replied. :You were listed as Jazz’s first lieutenant, so reason follows that you would have taken over after his death.: 

Each side in the war kept track of the opposing side’s leadership structure. However, the Decepticons’ took it one step further and publicized bounties as an incentive, both for their own troops as well as for any bounty hunters who would like to try their luck. As a deserter, Drift’s name would also be on the list. 

:What’s my current bounty?: Mirage asked slyly.

:The last copy I saw predates when I joined the Autobots,: Drift pointed out, deftly sidestepping Mirage’s verbal trap with the truth. :One of your people can pick up a current version easier than I can.:

Mirage frowned to himself. There was nothing else for it. :I will go make contact with high command.: 

Mirage sent Drift a list of locations with dates and times. :Keep yourself and the girl hidden, but make sure you are at these coordinates at the designated times. I will join you during one of these stops. If I don’t show up by the time you reach the end of the list, go underground with the girl.:

Drift popped his trunk to show the metal box containing Wheelie. :Take Soundwave’s spy,: he said. :We didn’t have the time to interrogate him properly. He might still be useful.:

After Mirage took custody of Wheelie and left, Drift started driving. Mikaela, exhausted by crying, dozed fitfully in his front seat.

*** 

Drift was terrified. It had only been a day since Mirage had left and things had gone from bad to worse. There had been a broadcast sent on all available channels, including human, Autobot, and Decepticon ones. Drift briefly thought about not telling Mikaela, but he couldn’t leave her in the dark about this. 

“Are you ok?” Mikaela asked as Drift slowed to a stop at the side of the road. She had never felt Drift this upset.

“No... No I’m not OK. I’m the furthest from OK that you can be.” 

Without further explanation, Drift played the Fallen’s message across his windshield for Mikaela to watch. Drift shuddered. He could almost feel the menace as the Fallen demanded the human government hand over Sam, followed by a complete doxxing of Sam’s entire life. It was a familiar feeling, and one he had hoped he would never encounter again.

When the recording was done Drift and Mikaela sat in silence. Mikaela fiddled idly with Drift’s steering wheel, rubbing it unconsciously. 

“You’re afraid,” Mikaela noted softly. She had never felt Drift this afraid before. He was always the strong one, even when Mikaela felt that she was falling apart.

“Yes,” Drift admitted. It was painful to admit. He knew that Mikaela had come to rely on him, and he didn’t want to make her feel more afraid. But he also didn’t want to lie to her.

“Do you know him?” Mikaela asked.

“I’ve heard stories. Nightmares whispered in corners,” Drift said softly, emotion making his voice waver. “I saw him once. And I felt lucky to leave with my spark intact.”

~~~  
A MILLION YEARS AGO

Deadlock was terrified. He was crouched in a corner of the throne room in Darkmount, hiding behind a auxiliary monitor console. Deadlock had been talking with Megatron after an officer’s meeting when Megatron had suddenly and roughly shoved Deadlock behind the console with a quickly commed warning to stay silent if Deadlock valued his spark. 

The door to the throne room opened and a field containing overwhelming malevolence rolled over him from the other side of the throne room. Numb hands dropped off the butts of his pistols. During his time as Megatron’s protege, Deadlock had met the worst of the Decepticon army; mechs whose tactics and morality even dispassionate Shockwave considered excessively cruel. Phase Sixers and the Decepticon Justice Division were nothing compared to this mech, however. Deadlock understood that mere firepower would not save him now. Only remaining unknown would.

Across the room, Megatron kneeled and abased himself as the dark mech strode across the room and settled himself on Megatron’s throne. 

“Master,” Deadlock heard Megatron say. The warlord’s voice was carefully neutral and lacked the aura of command that Deadlock was used to hearing. “If I had known you were coming I-” 

The dark mech slashed one hand downwards, cutting off whatever else Megatron was going to say. Megatron flinched. “Spare me your excuses,” the unknown mech said with a dry, dusty voice. In that voice was the sound of the void between spaces and atrocities hidden in the dark. “I want results.”

“Yes, Master,” Megatron said smoothly.

Deadlock listened uncomfortably as Megatron carefully danced his words around the dark mech. The menace that radiated from the tall figure kept Deadlock pinned in place like a petrorabbit standing paralyzed in front of the jaws of a turbofox. Deadlock shut down as many voluntary and involuntary systems as he could in an effort to remain unnoticed. In the end, he could only listen as Megatron made his excuses and the dark mech made his demands. 

What seemed like an eternity later, the cold menace passed by and receded. 

Sometime later, Deadlock became aware that somebody was shaking him by his shoulder. Deadlock onlined his optics and looked over at Megatron, who looked uncharacteristically rattled. 

“This never happened,” Megatron ordered gruffly, but without heat. 

Deadlock could only nod his understanding as he tried to uncurl himself from his hiding place. “Who was that?” Deadlock whispered. 

Megatron quickly glanced behind himself, as if he was afraid that the dark mech had returned while he was not looking. He then looked consideringly at Deadlock for a long moment before he leaned over and whispered two words: “The Fallen.”

Deadlock looked at Megatron, confused. Megatron just shook his head, pulled Deadlock to his feet, and pushed him towards a door. Deadlock assumed that it was a different door than the dark one had left by. 

“You’re off shift until tomorrow. Go,” Megatron ordered, then strode away. 

Deadlock knew he wouldn’t be telling anyone else about this.

~~~

“After that day I gathered any rumors I could find. Not that there was much to hear,” Drift admitted. “Most of the stories I did hear would make hardened soldiers cry.”

“Wait, so Megatron’s not in charge of the Decepticons?” Mikaela asked, suddenly realizing the implications of what Drift had been describing. 

“I didn’t say that.” However, Drift didn’t elaborate. He pulled back onto the road and started heading towards the next rendezvous point on Mirage’s list.

“The authorities are going to hand over Sam, aren’t they?” Mikaela asked perceptively. She reached back into her bag for a bottle of juice and a packet of trail mix.

“I’d imagine so,” Drift replied. “One person is a small price to pay.”


	10. Chapter 10

Drift and Mikaela spent the next few hours on the road in silence, Drift remembering events from his time with Megatron, Mikaela trying to process everything that had happened the last few days.

Drift pulled off the divided highway and onto the side road. He pulled into a strip mall that had a couple of the fast casual restaurant chains that Mikaela preferred and waited. 

“Mikaela,” Drift eventually said, softly. 

Mikaela nodded absently.

Drift was unnerved. “Do you want to eat?” He was worried because Mikaela hadn’t gotten out to stretch in several hours and she likely needed to do other human biological stuff. 

“Not really,” Mikaela said after a few minutes.

They sat in strained silence for another few minutes. The parking lot flood lights came on as dusk gave way into night. Neon light reflected off of wet pavement. It had obviously rained in this area recently.

“I haven’t felt that chest-tearing pain,” Mikaela suddenly said without warning. “Since they left me behind to go to Diego Garcia,” She didn't need to clarifly for Drift who they were. Mikaela had never told Drift what had happened between herself and Prime’s team. Whatever had happened, it had colored Mikaela’s reactions to them, and to Drift, since then.

Gradually, in fits and starts, the entire story spilled out. 

~~~   
SUMMER 2008

Mikaela stood on the catwalk mounted fifteen feet up the side of the hanger at the Autobot’s current base in California. She stared blankly at Optimus. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re leaving?” Mikaela asked numbly. 

Mikaela’s mind raced. Leaving meant that she’d need to pack her stuff. It’s not like she had a lot in the first, place, but she’d need to stop by her aunt’s house to pick up a few things. Mikaela had also never heard of Diego Garcia before. She’d have to look it up. What if it was overseas? She’d need a valid passport and the application process could take months. Could Lennox get it expedited? What identification did she need? Mikaela mentally added that to her growing mental to-do list.

“Mikaela?” It took her a moment for Mikaela to realize that she’d missed what Optimus had just said.

“What was that, Optimus?” Mikaela asked absently. “I gotta go pack. When are we leaving?” She started walking down the catwalk towards the half-empty barracks that she, along with a handful of soldiers, called home.

“Ironhide, Ratchet, myself, and the rest of NEST leave this afternoon,” Optimus said, easily keeping pace. 

This afternoon! That was just a few hours away. Mikaela needed to rush. 

“You’re not coming with.” 

Mikaela’s racing mind stopped so fast her brain may have well left track marks on her skull. 

Mikaela came to a stop and turned to face Optimus Prime. Because he was ‘Prime’ now. His attitude had changed and he was not her friend ‘Optimus’ anymore. He was the leader of the Autobots. 

“But...” Mikaela struggled to come to grips with what Optimus Prime was saying. The mental whiplash didn’t help. “Why?” she asked plaintively. 

“You have been a great help, but asking you to move halfway across the world is too much for us to ask,” Optimus Prime said regretfully. 

She didn’t do it for the ‘Autobots,’ Mikaela seethed inside. She did it for her friends. The same friends who were now abandoning her.

“Too much? Not for me. I’m willing to do far more than that,” Mikaela said heatedly, “I have done more than that.” In fact, she’d moved in with the Autobots after graduation, and hadn’t looked back. She had spent her time learning alongside Ratchet, and hanging out with Optimus and Ironhide. The soldiers of NEST interacted with them as colleagues, she interacted with them as people. 

“Mikaela, you belong here with your family, your friends, and your community,” Optimus Prime said reasonably. They were relocating to an isolated island halfway across the globe, afterall. He couldn’t ask her to give up everything for them. 

“My family? You are my family,” Mikaela pointed out the simple truth as she saw it. It was a risk, though.

“No we are not, Mikaela,” Optimus Prime said sternly.

That was what she had been afraid of. Mikaela felt suddenly sick at the abrupt repudiation. She laid an arm across her stomach and leaned back against the wall. 

She couldn’t look at Optimus Prime anymore. 

Optimus Prime sighed. Mikaela knew that it was actually him redirecting his air cooling fans briefly, but it mimicked a human sigh well enough. “Mikaela. Diego Garcia is restricted. Only the military is coming with.” 

So the Generals had finally gotten their way. NEST had tolerated her because it kept the Autobots happy, but they hadn’t known what to do with her since she didn’t fit into any of their neat categories. 

“If I was military-” Mikaela began, desperately trying to find a compromise. 

Optimus Prime, very unusually, cut off what she was going to say. “But you’re not,” he pointed out.

“What if I was an Autobot?” Mikaela felt like she was grasping at straws now.

“I wouldn't take you,” Optimus said devastatingly gently. “Mikaela, this is not your fight. You have your whole life in front of you. Don’t waste it by getting wrapped up in our war.”

Optimus Prime watched her for several long moments. Mikaela tried to keep her feelings off of her face. If he was paying attention to her bio signs, though, he probably already had an idea how she felt. She kept her eyes focused on his chest, because she couldn’t bear the look in his face. Inwardly she felt like she was shriveling up in despair.

“Ironhide and Ratchet will be by shortly to say goodbye,” Optimus Prime said decisively, but not unkindly.

Mikaela nodded woodenly.

“Goodbye Mikaela,” Optimus Prime said formally.

“Will I never see you again?” Mikaela suddenly blurted out, then winced. She just had to ask that one last question. 

Mikaela was afraid what the answer would be. 

“I do not know,” Optimus replied. “We will leave you with our comm frequencies.” 

For however long they still worked, Mikaela thought, feeling bitter. All the time they had spent together, and it was still so easy for them to drop her at a moment’s notice.

“Thank you,” Mikaela said grudgingly. “And... goodbye, Optimus.” 

Mikaela didn’t think she could watch him walk away, but she did. Something deep within her felt like it was being slowly pulled out of her chest with every step Optimus Prime took, leaving an open wound she didn’t know how to heal. 

Ironhide and Ratchet came in soon after Optimus left. Ironhide just stood there awkwardly until Ratchet cuffed him upside the head. 

“Hey, ‘kaela,” Ironhide said gruffly.

“Hey Ironhide,” Mikaela said listlessly, a pale imitation of her usual lively greeting. She missed the quick glance Ratchet and Ironhide traded at her tone. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

“Uh, yah,” Ironhide responded, slightly disturbed by her listlessness and refusal to look at him. She still had her head turned to the side towards the door. “You got my comm in case any Decepticreeps show up. Just give me a call and I’ll be right there,” he offered. 

“Guns blazing?” Mikaela turned her head and smiled weakly up at him, still a shadow of her usual attitude.

“You know it.” Ironhide was worried about how Mikaela was doing, but he also understood a fundamental truth about Mikaela. She was stubborn. It hurt now, but she’d get over it and move on. Mikaela was that kind of survivor. 

“I wish I could go with you.” But she also knew that they couldn’t override Optimus Prime’s decision, at least when it didn’t come to their areas of expertise. 

“You’re not a soldier, Mikaela. You’re better off here.” Ironhide was clearly trying to convince himself.

Mikaela nodded listlessly. “That’s what Optimus said,” she said neutrally. 

“Mikaela,” Ratchet cut in, getting down to the practical details. “I can have your things shipped to your new dwelling,” he offered. It would make moving easier for her. 

“Don’t bother. Don’t have a place to go yet,” Mikaela said, perhaps too truthfully. 

“What about your aunt?” Ratchet was worried. Mikaela had been living with her, and they had assumed that Mikaela would go back. Had they missed something?

“I’m eighteen,” Mikaela pointed out, folding her arms defensively.

At Ratchet and Ironhide’s blank looks Mikaela elaborated. “Parents are only responsible for their kids until they turn eighteen. Aunt Elaine took me in after dad went to jail, even though she already had six kids.” Mikaela shrugged. “She let me stay until I graduated high school, then I had to move out.” 

Mikaela left unsaid the fact that she had promptly moved in with the Autobots. She didn’t have any other place to stay. After graduation she had soon become estranged from her former high school friends. They were all getting ready for college, or getting married. Now she’d have to find someplace else, and quick. Mikaela doubted the military would allow her to keep living on an empty base.

Unknown to Mikaela, Ratchet quickly commed Optimus. One short, furious back-and-forth later, Ratchet had won the argument, even though Optimus hadn’t put up much of a fight after he’d heard what Ratchet’s request was. 

“It’s OK,” Mikaela said, misunderstanding the look on Ratchet’s face as he traded a glance with Ironhide, “I can probably find a couch to stay on until I find a place to rent.” Her Aunt Elaine had connections with several volunteer organizations in the parish. She’d probably know which group Mikaela should apply to for temporary help. After all, Mikaela hadn’t been working since graduation, so she didn’t have any money coming in, and she had a hole in her resume. It wasn’t like she could talk about anything she had done with the Autobots. If she broke those NDAs she probably wouldn’t need to worry about housing for the rest of her life. 

“I can help you with that,” Ratchet said unexpectedly. “Remember, you let Bumblebee manage the money you got from the government after Mission City. He’s invested it in a trust for you.” Ratchet carefully passed over some paperwork. The folder was daintily small in his hands. “As long as you’re careful it should last you a while.”

Mikaela flipped open the folder and read the overview on the first page. Her mind boggled over the numbers and projections on the sheets. She’d need more time to go over the numbers in detail, but it was more money than she had seen in her life. And that was just her per month spending allowance. 

“What did Bumblebee do? Knock over a casino?” Mikaela was only half-kidding. 

Ratchet didn’t have the heart to chide Mikaela. “Bumblebee will have his lawyer get in touch with you about how to access your new accounts.”

Mikaela could only nod, but this time it was a good shock. Bumblebee had a lawyer? How did that work?

“Furthermore, I talked to Optimus, and he has a place in California where you can stay. It’s an Autobot safehouse, so you can’t tell anybody about it, and you’ll need to follow some rules while you live there.” 

Mikaela’s head whipped up so fast she nearly fainted from the head rush. “Yes! Anything!” she blurted out. Then Mikaela caught herself and said more calmly, “I mean, I understand.”

Ratchet smiled. “And finally, I have this for you.” He pulled out what looked like a miniature version of the pads she had seen the Autobots using occasionally. “I’ve loaded it with your next lesson, so you can keep up with your studies.”

“Ratchet...” Mikaela said astonished. 

“When you’re done with this lesson, let me know and I’ll send you the next,” Ratchet said gruffly.

Mikaela was suddenly reminded that they were leaving. And she might never see them again. 

Mikaela stood there awkwardly clutching the folder and pad. “I suppose this is goodbye, then.”

“Indeed.” Ratchet nodded. “Goodbye, Mikaela.”

Ironhide stepped forward. “I’m afraid I don’t have any fancy gifts like Ratchet.” He paused. “But... goodbye,” he said abruptly, as if uncomfortable. 

Mikaela smiled weakly at him. “Thank you Ironhide. And, goodbye.”

Mikaela was able to remain standing as Ratchet and Ironhide left. The tearing pain was not as bad this time. Maybe she was getting used to it.

After they left Mikaela slowly collapsed on grated floor of the catwalk and massaged her breastbone, trying to relieve the pain, but it didn’t help.

~~~

Drift was at a loss for words. He understood why the others had left Mikaela behind. For all of her documented bravery at Mission City, she wasn’t a soldier. He never wanted to see her on the battlefield. Past experience taught him, however, that what he wanted rarely happened.

However, he needed to address the issue in front of him. Mikaela’s complicated feelings. Sometimes he thought taking on the Decepticon Justice Division would be more straightforward. 

“Do you understand why they made the decision they did?” he asked gently. Drift needed Mikaela to find the answers herself.

“Because they wanted me to be safe,” Mikaela said. “I get that. But I’d already lived with them for a year.” she pointed out.

“That year was relatively quiet, was it not?” Drift could assume it had been, looking at the report he had on Mikaela. Also, the overview he had gotten from Bumblebee hadn’t mentioned any large Decepticon incursions.

Mikaela nodded. She didn’t want to discuss it, but Drift was making her. It made her upset because he kept poking at her sore spots. 

“Do you think they could have handled it better?” Drift asked her.

“Definitely.” Mikaela snorted bitterly. 

“I know what you’re doing,” she said to Drift with a wan smile before he could ask his next question. 

“What am I doing?” Drift said innocently.

“Making me step back and critically examine an emotional issue,” Mikaela said matter-of-factly. It sounded like something her English teacher would say back during high school.

“And?” Drift was glad she was learning to spot it when it happened. Next he would guide Mikaela in how to do it for herself. But that was for future sessions.

“You’re right,” Mikaela shrugged, “I overreacted.”

Drift needed to stop that line of thought before it festered. “Mikaela, you have a right to feel whatever you feel. But when your negative feelings get in the way of you living...”

“Somebody taught you that once, too.” Mikaela turned the tables back on Drift, trying to take the pressure off of herself.

“Yes.” Drift wasn’t going to think about who. Sometimes it hurt too much. 

“Was it any easier when Wing put you through this?” 

...Mikaela was too perceptive for his own good, sometimes.

“Never. Diving headfirst into battle against an entrenched company of Autobot infantry while critically low on ammunition and recharge is a lot easier than self-examination.”

Mikaela was curious. Drift rarely talked about his battlefield experiences. However... “Somehow I don’t think those are the kind of war stories that the others would want me listening to,” Mikaela pointed out.

“Probably not,” Drift conceded.

“Screw them.” Mikaela decided. “You need to tell somebody, you can tell me.”

Drift knew he probably wouldn’t. The last thing he wanted was for Mikaela to get stained with the overwhelming fuckup that the war had become. But he still appreciated the thought.

Mikaela slowly slumped in the driver’s seat, emotionally exhausted by the day. “What’s going to happen now?”

“First, you are going to get out and eat some ‘real’ food and take care of what you need to take care of,” Drift said. “Then we will to continue moving until Mirage or another Autobot contacts us and gives us further directions.”

“Not knowing what’s going on sucks.”

“It’s not uncommon in war.” Drift sympathized, but he knew that they were a low priority problem right now. With the death of Optimus Prime, the spiritual heart of the Autobots for over four million years had been removed. One low-ranking soldier and one civilian were not a priority for the remaining Autobot leadership. 

After eating dinner and stocking up on supplies from the convenience store in the strip mall, Mikaela spent the rest of the evening periodically napping while sitting in the driver’s seat. Drift drove several hours in silence before stopping at a roadside rest stop for the night, where he woke up Mikaela long enough for her to crawl into his back seat and stretch out.

*** 

Something inside of her woke Mikaela up early the next morning. Outside it was false dawn, and the sun hadn’t risen above the horizon yet. 

Deep within her Mikaela could feel something rising. Fumbling briefly with the latch, she opened Drift’s door and stumbled out into the cool dawn air, clutching at the shard around her neck. 

In front of her, the sun slowly surged above the horizon. 

“Mikaela?” She heard Drift say softly as she continued to walk across the grass towards the sunrise.

Suddenly, Mikaela was overwhelmingly happy. She didn’t know where it came from. Delighted giggles welled up from deep inside of her and suddenly burst out of her uncontrollably. 

“He’s alive! Drift!” Grinning madly, Mikaela turned back to look at the confused-looking car behind her. “Optimus is alive!”


	11. Chapter 11

Events suddenly started happening very quickly for Drift and Mikaela. 

Mirage was waiting for both of them at their next stop. Interrogating Wheelie had revealed that the location of the warehouse had not been leaked to the Decepticons before Wheelie’s communications had been disabled by Mikaela. Furthermore, the Decepticons had lost whatever battle they had just been fighting, and were in retreat. They would be too busy licking their wounds and preparing for their next move. In the meantime, it was safe for Mikaela and Drift to head back home.

Mikaela and Drift could have taken their time getting back, but neither wanted to. They drove back non-stop and found everything exactly how it had been left just a few days before. 

***

A week later Sam showed up. Bumblebee had barely pulled into the warehouse and stopped before Sam jumped out of the car and ran towards Mikaela. It took a lightning-fast transform-and-grab on Bumblebee’s part to prevent the two of them from falling over as Sam tackled Mikaela at full speed. 

“Mikaela!” Sam’s words tripped over each other as he pressed her back against Bumblebee’s supporting hand. “I missed you. I want you. You’re so beautiful.” Sam combed Mikaela’s hair haphazardly back from her face with his fingers, and gazed adoringly at her face. 

“Sam...” Mikaela unsuccessfully tried to interrupt him.

“There was this old plane, and suddenly we were in Egypt, and there were pyramids...” Sam babbled on, ignoring what Mikaela was saying. He was also ignoring her personal space. 

“Sam!” Mikaela said sharply, trying to get his attention again.

“...and we blew the top off of one of the pyramids, well, Simmonds did. And Optimus died, and I died, but I wasn’t dead, and I brought Optimus back to life. I’m awesome. So how about you and I get together and celebrate?” Sam nodded hopefully, trying to wriggle his eyebrows suggestively, but looking like he had a tic instead. “And by celebrate, I mean in bed,” he said, just in case Mikaela hadn’t been able to figure it out.

Mikaela just stood there. 

“Mikaela?” Sam said uncertainty, the exuberant high he had been on draining away in the face of her calm steadiness. 

“Sam,” Mikaela said evenly, “will you listen to me now?”

“I have been listening,” Sam protested. 

Mikaela gave him a sharp look. “Sam. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What! You’re not pregnant are you?” Sam started freaking out. 

“Sam!” Mikaela said sharply. She had no clue where the fuck he got that idea. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m breaking up with you.”

“But, you can’t...” Sam protested.

“Yes, I can Sam,” Mikaela said firmly.

“But I saved the world,” Sam said plaintively. 

Mikaela could see Sam’s emotions chase each other across his face and settle on denial.

“I’m not your prize, Sam.” Mikaela hammered it home. “I’m not your award or your trophy. I’m a person.” 

The words came surprisingly measured and firm. Mikaela had practiced this scenario a dozen times through in her head. Now, Mikaela realized, she was simply tired. 

“It’s over Sam.”

“You can’t do that.” Sam continued to protest. He was firmly stuck in denial. 

Sam grabbed Mikaela by her upper arms and pinned her with back against Bumblebee’s hand. “You can’t just leave me. I can make it better. Let me make it better,” he begged.

“No Sam,” Mikaela said firmly, “you need to go.” 

“I won’t let you!” Sam suddenly yelled in her face, and, for the first time, Mikaela was afraid of him. 

“Let me go, Sam!” Mikaela demanded. 

Sam didn’t.

Mikaela kneed him firmly in the crotch.

As Sam collapsed from the pain, he kept a firm grip on Mikaela’s arms. Mikaela squirmed, pushing back against Sam’s half-crumpled body. Gradually, she fought her way free.

Bumblebee finally moved to help Mikaela. With his free hand he gently picked up Sam and moved him away from Mikaela. 

“Bumblebee, no!” Sam protested, reaching out towards Mikaela, his face a study in anguish.

Bumblebee stood up with Sam cradled in his hands. He made a sad, inquiring noise in Mikaela’s direction. 

“Get him out of here, Bumblebee. Please,” Mikaela asked as she wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to collapse.

Bumblebee transformed around Sam so that Sam ended up belted into the passenger’s seat. Sam pounded the clear armor of Bumblebee’s window and yelled something Mikaela fortunately could not hear. Bumblebee’s hardlight hologram appeared in the driver’s seat as Bumblebee pulled out into the street and left. 

As soon as the door shut behind Bumblebee, Drift transformed and walked over from where he had been parked. He smoothly knelt down on one knee next to Mikaela. “Are you hurt?” he asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Mikaela replied. 

Drift scanned Mikaela. She would have some bruising on her arms where Sam had gripped her, but otherwise the damage was not physical. 

“Do you need anything?”

Mikaela stood, shaking, for a long minute before replying. “Can I have a hug?” she asked in a small voice.

“Of course.” Drift laid down one hand for Mikaela to sit on, then cupped her in his other hand as he raised her to his chest. She leaned against his plating, feeling the warmth and subtle vibration of his living body. 

“Do you want a blanket?” Drift asked, gently. 

Mikaela nodded. Drift pulled out the blanket he kept in his subspace and held it up to her so Mikaela could wrap herself.

“It’s not really his fault,” Mikaela said suddenly, “I’m a shallow person.” 

Drift disagreed. A shallow person would have hated him because he used to be a Decepticon. “What makes you say that?” he asked instead.

Mikaela pushed herself back from his chest. Drift placed his other hand behind Mikaela to catch her if she started falling. 

“It’s true,” Mikaela insisted. “I’ve always been more interested in tight abs or big... arms.” She knew what they had said about her in high school. Mikaela had dated her way through most of the football team. None of her boyfriends lasted for long. Sam was actually the longest she had been able to keep a guy.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Drift pointed out. Physical attraction was important if you were going to have a physical relationship with another person. 

“I’m a slut,” Mikaela said.

The glow of Drift’s eyes flickered subtly as he quickly looked up that word. “I know what the word means, but I don’t think I understand why it’s so bad.” After all, sharing pleasure was just another form of networking in Cybertronian culture. 

“I sleep around with a lot of guys. That’s a bad thing,” Mikaela tried to explain. 

Drift still did not understand. “On Cybertron that would just mean that you have a wide circle of friends. It’s not a negative.”

“Here it’s a bad thing,” Mikaela stated. 

Drift knew that they could continue trying to explain cultural standards to each other for hours. Indeed, they had done that several times in the past. However, this time he needed to cut short Mikaela’s depressive mood.

“Mikaela, what did you want to get out of your relationship with Sam?” Drift asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. 

Mikaela took several minutes to think. “I..” her voice trailed off. “I don’t know.” 

Suddenly, Mikaela realized that she didn’t know what she wanted out of her relationship with Sam. “Sex with Sam was OK.” He hadn’t been the best, but neither had he been the worst she’d encountered. 

“From what I could tell, you seemed more... satisfied when you did it yourself,” Drift said tactfully.

Mikaela squirmed a bit at the reminder that Drift was watching her 24/7. But it also paradoxically made her feel safe. Mikaela trusted Drift with that level of complete access. She would have never felt comfortable with Sam having that amount of access to her private life... 

“I didn’t trust him.” Mikaela realized. “Sexually, there were things I didn’t want to ask him for. I didn’t want to bring them up. Because I didn’t feel like I could trust him.”

“It was just a physical relationship,” Drift summarized for her. Then he grinned down at Mikaela. “That’s not a bad thing, though. A little stress relief can be therapeutic and good team bonding.”

“Where did it go wrong, then?” Mikaela asked. 

“Expectations. Mutual understanding,” Drift pointed out. “I wasn’t here for the beginning of your relationship with Sam, so I don’t know if you ever talked about it. You certainly haven’t in the time I’ve been here.”

Mikaela shook her head. “He’ll think I led him on.”

“Mikaela, even if you had ‘led him on’ that did not give him the right to assault you like that.” Drift said pointedly. He was still upset by Sam’s actions towards Mikaela. Sam was lucky Bumblebee had intervened first.

“He didn’t assault me,” Mikaela protested. 

“Try to say that to somebody who isn’t remotely monitoring your vitals 24/7,” Drift fired back. He wasn’t going to let Mikaela avoid this realization. “Sam purposefully moved into your personal space, he boxed you into a corner that you could not escape from, and he yelled in your face. It was no less of an assault than if he had actually punched in the face.” Drift used his free hand to gently pull down the blanket, baring one of Mikaela’s arms. The bruise on her upper arm had darkened in the meantime. 

Mikaela’s gaze followed Drift’s. 

“It doesn’t matter if you only wanted him for his tight abs and large arms. It doesn’t matter if Sam thought he was going to marry you and have the white picket fence and 2.3 kids-” Drift started to say.

Mikaela interrupted him. “But we never talked about what we wanted.” Mikaela realized where she and Sam had gone wrong. In retrospect it was so simple. 

Drift nodded. Now she was getting it.

Drift sat down in a more comfortable position and held her curled up against his chest. Mikaela leaned into Drift’s warm steadiness.

“Drift?” Mikaela asked, tentatively, some time later.

Drift hummed an acknowledgement. 

“I should learn self defense.”

“I’ll start researching places.” After all, Drift knew more than Mikaela, even if he knew more about war than he did about human martial arts. 

“Thank you.”

Drift continued to hold Mikaela until she fell asleep. 

Once he felt her breathing even out, Drift opened a comm line to Bumblebee. 

:How is she doing?: The scout’s normally upbeat tone was subdued and his worry was clear in his voice.

:She’s rattled,: Drift said shortly. :Sam is no longer welcome.:

:But, Sam-: Bumblebee started to protest. 

Drift cut him off sharply. :Sam acted inappropriately,: Drift said flatly, :and he used physical force against Mikaela. If you had waited any longer to intervene I would have instead.: Drift’s statement ended with a hard edge to his voice that Bumblebee hadn’t heard from the warrior before. 

It wasn’t an idle threat. 

:If you want to come over again, you do it without Sam.: Drift’s voice made it clear that it was not a suggestion. 

:Understood,: Bumblebee answered Drift. 

Bumblebee didn’t realize until much later that he had reacted to Drift like he would one of the other senior Autobot officers. 

***

Details about the battle in the human news was scarce. In America, the short news cycle of the American media, most likely encouraged by some covert social engineering, meant that a skirmish in the Middle East went largely unnoticed. Even one that happened on the outskirts of a major metropolitan area. It only took a couple of days for the damage to the pyramid to be attributed to a convenient terrorist organization. The rumours of alien war machines and giant robots was relegated to niche conspiracy theory websites and a few unpopular memes.

Drift and Mikaela were also kept almost completely out of the loop by Autobot high command. A redacted copy of the formal report was forwarded to Drift by Optimus Prime. It was short on details, but even then it still showed just how close it had been. 

What interested Drift, however, was the timing of both Optimus Prime’s death and resurrection. They perfectly matched Mikaela’s outbursts. 

Mikaela, meanwhile, was in her bedroom and was sprawled out across her bed. The window overlooking Drift’s corner of the warehouse was open. She had started keeping them open during the day a couple of weeks into Drift’s stay. It made it easier for the two of them to talk. After a month, Mikaela didn’t bother to close the windows at all at night.

Fiddling briefly with her phone, Mikaela opened a line to Optimus. It took a couple of minutes before Optimus’ voice came across the line. 

:Mikaela.: 

He sounded relieved, Mikaela noticed. 

“Hi Optimus.” Mikaela said, stretching out.

:It’s good to hear your voice,: Optimus said, gently. 

“Likewise,” Mikaela tried to play it cool, even though she had long ago come to the understanding that she was surrounded by too many perceptive people. “It’s been a while.”

:Indeed.:

“You died.” Did her breath just hitch? Was that a sob? Mikaela had told herself she wasn’t going to cry again. 

:Who told you that?: Optimus asked gently. 

“Sam did,” Mikaela admitted, “but I had a feeling before then.”

:I’m here now,: said Optimus reassuringly. 

He was being so gentle with her. Mikaela wasn’t going to break. 

“But you almost weren’t. And if you hadn’t...” Mikaela paused to try to calm down, but ended up rolling over to bury her face in her duvet instead. “You would have died thinking I hated you,” she said, muffled.

Apparently Optimus could still hear her, however. :I don’t think you hate me, Mikaela,: he reassured her.

“I was childish,” Mikaela said, pulling her face out of the duvet and rolling onto her side. “I didn’t trust that you had your reasons. I thought you were just abandoning me.”

:I would never abandon you, Mikaela.: 

“Don’t promise that, Optimus Prime,” Mikaela said seriously. “This is war. All it takes is a lucky shot.”

The line was quiet for a long moment.

“I think I felt it,” Mikaela confessed softly. 

:Felt what?:

“Felt it when you died.” Mikaela grasped for words to describe something that was essentially indescribable. “You were there, and then suddenly, you were gone. It was like a light in the next room went out, and you’d never noticed the light before, but now that it was gone some part of me was just... empty. And I knew that you were gone.” If Mikaela focused on the memories, she could still feel the echoes. “Later, I felt you come back.” 

:Mikaela. It’s only your fear talking,: Optimus said. After all, Sam had conclusively proven that he was the bearer of the Allspark. Mikaela didn’t need to live with that burden.

Mikaela let his words wash over her, their soothing rumble calming something deep inside her.

:Mikaela,: Optimus gently tried to get her attention.

Mikaela shook her head. “Sorry, I zoned out there for a minute.” She idly scratched her fingernails on the fabric of the duvet.

:No worries. You have been through a great upheaval. Your reaction is only natural,: Optimus explained. The pressure of fleeing her home and living on the run was getting to her, he thought. 

“I wish I could be with you,” Mikaela confessed. She knew she wouldn’t be allowed, though.

:Mikaela I want to bring you to Diego Garcia, but I can’t.: If anything, recent events had proven to him that Mikaela needed to stay away from the official Autobot presence on Earth for her own good.

“I didn’t say that to guilt trip you, Optimus. Just.. tell me you have a good reason.”

:I have a good reason.: The best reason, Optimus reassured himself.

Mikaela exhaled shakily. “I trust you.” 

:Thank you.: Optimus felt humbled by Mikaela’s simple statement. 

:There is another topic I need to talk to you about,: Optimus continued.

“Oh?”

:It has been three months since Drift became your guardian. You agreed to a three month trial period. What is your decision?: For Optimus, Mikaela’s decision was the deciding factor. If she didn’t want Drift to be her guardian, it didn’t matter what Drift’s opinion was.

Mikaela looked out the open window of her room, Drift looked back at her from where he stood. He was listening in like he usually did. She smiled at him. “I am honored to accept Drift as my guardian,” Mikaela said clearly. “I would have it no other way.”

:I am glad you feel that way, Mikaela.: 

Optimus was pleased. Now that Mikaela had a guardian he wouldn’t need to worry about her safety as much. Drift had done a good job keeping her safe during the crisis with Soundwave’s spy, Optimus thought. That was not a bad start.

:Until later, Mikaela.: 

“Until later, Optimus.” Mikaela closed the connection. 

“He’ll probably be calling you now.” Mikaela looked over at the window where Drift was standing. 

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, Drift indicated that he had received a comm from Optimus Prime. 

“Lord Prime,” Drift greeted, speaking out loud for Mikaela’s benefit.

:Drift. I will get straight to the point. As you may already know, I was just talking to Mikaela. It has been three months since you became Mikaela’s guardian. Tell, me Drift, do you wish to remain in your current position? Or, will you join my team?: On the surface it was a generous offer. Drift had been on the front lines of war so long it was where he felt the most sure of his place and his skills. However, he couldn’t leave Mikaela. His coding had already decided for him, and Drift didn’t want to fight it.

“My Lord Prime,” Drift said, “I thank you for your offer. However, I am Mikaela Banes’ guardian. I will continue in that position.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikaela and Drift's story will continue next Friday.


End file.
